pomme d'amour
by dualce
Summary: Alfred wants to learn to cook, and Lovino teaches him. They both learn a little more along the way. AU, human names used.
1. Chapter 1: bruschetta

Fandom: Hetalia

Rating: M for swearing, and heading towards adult themes...

Pairing: Alfred/Lovino, others later(?)

Summary: _Lovino stared at him, eyes wide, a blush starting to rise – and then Alfred grinned, his normal huge dumb smile, and took a big bite of bruschetta._ Alfred wants to learn to cook, and Lovino teaches him. They both learn a little more along the way. AU, human names used.

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><p><em>pomme d'amour<em>

* * *

><p>"<em>Va bene<em>, let's see what you've got," Lovino said as he shouldered his way past Alfred through the door, ignoring the "Hi Lovino!" greeting from the other man. It wasn't hard to find the kitchen, in the small house. He remembered he had been invited over before, a long time ago. Not since then, though.

The kitchen looked like it had been cleaned recently – good, maybe that meant Alfred _was_ serious about learning to cook, which meant Lovino wasn't wasting _every single second _of his time here. He laid his bags on the counter and went to the first cupboard, opening it to inspect its contents.

"Uh, what are you looking for?"

"Need to see what you have – or don't have, which is apparently anything fit for human consumption," Lovino said. He peered into the last cupboard, which held nothing but four cereal boxes, three of them empty. He shook one at Alfred, the little cereal leftovers rattling accusingly. "Why don't you just throw them away?" And everybody thought _he_ was lazy, but there was no point in wasting precious shelf space.

"Er -" Alfred started to shrug, but Lovino just turned away.

"_Bene_, let's get started."

"But -"

"I brought everything." Lovino unpacked his bags, neatly arranging everything on the counter in front of him.

"Mattie and I have a garden," Alfred continued.

Lovino paused. "_Sì_?" He spied a cutting board, pulling it in front of him.

"Large mixing bowl," he told Alfred. He pulled open a drawer, looking for a cutting knife. He found a couple pushed into the very back. Oh _Dio_, they were awful, cheap plastic Wal-Mart _things_ that should be tossed into a bottomless pit. He'd have to get new ones. _Good_ ones. Well, Alfred would, that is.

"I can show you -"

"I need a large mixing bowl_, sciocco,_" Lovino said again, louder.

"Ooookay," Alfred said slowly, and a few seconds later a plastic mixing bowl was placed in front of him.

One last and final preparation. Lovino flapped his apron clear of folds, wrapped the strings twice around himself, tying it in the front.

Lovino turned to see Alfred was just watching. "Apron?"

"Oh! Well, I don't think we have one. I don't really need one, do I?"

Lovino flicked his eyes up and down Alfred once. "Of course you do! You'll get crap all over yourself, or worse! On the food!"

Alfred's mouth was opening in protest, an 'o' of denial. Idiot.

"_Bene_, wear mine," Lovino said, untying his and throwing it at Alfred. "Okay, stand here," he said as Alfred finished tying the apron around himself. Alfred moved obediently to his side.

"We're making bruschetta. We'll start with -"

"Where's the recipe?"

Lovino exhaled loudly. "You don't need a recipe when you're with me, _sciocco_! You can look those up on your own." Lovino slid the cutting board so it was more in front of Alfred. "First, cut the tomatoes into small squares." He handed Alfred one of the knives. "I'll cut up the bread into slices, and then we toast them in the oven."

"'kay," Alfred moved to cut the tomatoes.

"Ends off first! _Christo_, don't squish them!"

Alfred paused, knife hovering. "Okay okay! Chill, dude. I forgot how much you like tomatoes."

Did everyone know about that...? Lovino pushed that thought from his mind as he sliced into the loaf of bread. "Tomatoes are the very basis for Italian food, you know."

"I thought Antonio's restaurant was Span -"

"They were first used in Italy!" Lovino could hear the blood rushing in his ears, but Alfred was quiet. Surprisingly. Was he so oblivious? Lovino kind of hoped so.

"No one knew what they were – well the Europeans didn't, they thought they were poisonous and used them to decorate gardens only. Italians, _certo_, were smarter than that." Lovino, having more experience, was done with the bread quickly. He watched Alfred cut up the lovely, bright red _romas_. "Pommi_ dei mori_."

"Hmm?"

Lovino jumped. "They – the French fucked up the translation, of course, calling them 'apples of love' because they thought they were – a way to bring passion." _Dio_, he needed to shut up!

"Ha ha! I bet they would," said Alfred.

Lovino quickly continued on. "Those are romas, a kind of plum tomato. They're good for soups and pastes, too."

Alfred nodded, finishing the last slice.

"Use the flat of the blade to scoop them into the bowl," Lovino instructed.

"Like this?"

"_Sì_."

After Alfred had moved all the tomato pieces into the bowl, Lovino picked up the cutting board and rinsed it off. He placed it back in front of Alfred.

"Okay, now we chop the basil." Lovino had brought some leaves from his own plant at home.

"Hey, I think we have this out in our garden!" Alfred said.

"_Sì_? Well, good for you." Lovino turned to get the metal pan he had seen earlier, for toasting the bread slices. He came back to the counter to see Alfred mutilating the basil leaves.

"No, no! _Christo_, do you know _nothing_?"

"Jeez! Okay, so what do I -"

"Roll the leaves like a cigar." Lovino mimed the motion with his fingertips. Alfred put down the knife and picked up a leaf.

"No, stack them on top of each other. So you only have to do it once." Alfred shuffled the leaves together and rolled them into a clumsy bundle.

"Okay, now you chop." Lovino moved around Alfred so he was on his left side. He was so broad, like a mountain – Lovino pressed into his shoulder in order to reach his hand, curling his fingers on top of Alfred's.

"Curl your fingers _down_, so the blade hits the knuckle instead. Like this." He removed his hand so Alfred could try. Slowly, fingers curled, Alfred started moving the knife up and down.

"Keep the point down on the board and just move the handle." Lovino peered around Alfred's arm, watching Alfred painstakingly chop the basil.

"It's harder than it looks on TV!" Alfred said. He finished chopping and then looked down at Lovino, who was still pressed in close next to him. "You sure know a lot, Lovino!" he said, smiling.

Lovino stepped back abruptly.

"It's just -" he paused, groped for works "- practice."

Alfred nodded as he scraped up the basil with his knife. "Into the bowl, right?"

"_Sì_. Garlic next." Lovino helped Alfred peel off two cloves from the bulb and take the skin off of them. Alfred practiced his chopping skills by mincing the garlic. Lovino turned on the oven to the broil setting.

"Ok, the rest is much easier. Parmesan cheese, olive oil, salt, pepper -"

"We've got those!" Alfred interrupted.

"- all into the bowl, then mix." Lovino proceeded to put the rest of the ingredients in.

"But how do you know how much to put in?"

"Practice," Lovino said again.

"That doesn't help _me_," Alfred said. "I'm not a professional ch -"

"A dash of salt and pepper, same amount for olive oil." Lovino said forcefully. "You can always add more. _But no less_, _sì_?"

"Got it!"

One could only hope, Lovino thought.

"Mix up the bowl," Lovino instructed. "Bread goes into the oven for about 10 minutes or so." He slid the pan onto the top rack, closed the oven door, and went to check on Alfred.

"_Not too much!_ _Christo_, you don't have to beat them to death!" He took the spoon from Alfred and crowded him out of the way. "Look. Just – gentle, enough to coat the tomatoes with the spices."

Alfred peered over his shoulder, watching carefully. "Right, okay. So, when do we eat?"

"_Christo_! Ten minutes, I just said!" Lovino huffed and went to open the bottle of wine he had brought with him.

"What's that for?"

"You can't eat Italian food without wine, _sciocco_!" Luckily he had brought his own bottle opener.

"Do you have a bottle opener?" he asked as an afterthought.

"Er, no? I don't think so...I'll ask Mattie though."

"You'll need to get one."

Alfred looked surprised. "Really? I don't even drink wine, though."

Lovino glared at him. "If you want to learn how to cook, you're going to need the proper tools. I'll make you a list," he declared.

"What, like Julia Child?" Alfred joked. "I won't even remember how to cook after – wait, what do you mean, list?"

Lovino pulled two glasses from the cupboard – nothing even resembling wine glasses, even, dear _Gesù_! "Set the table," he said sharply.

"Shouldn't I get to -"

"No discussion," Lovino said. "Table. Set."

Alfred sighed and went to get plates. Lovino poured two glasses of wine and set them on the counter for Alfred to pick up. He opened up the oven and pulled out the pan, touching the bread to see how toasted it was. Acceptable, so he set down the pan on top of the stove and hung the towel he was using as an oven mitt back in its place. The bread was quickly moved to another plate and the tomato mixture deposited onto the top.

Lovino carried the plate to the table and placed it between him and Alfred.

"Finally!" Alfred reached his hand forward, only to have Lovino smack it. Hard.

"Manners!" he hissed, and Alfred clutched his hand to himself, scowling. Lovino bent his head and sent a quick prayer upward. Or downward, or sideways, whatever you have.

"Amen," he said firmly, raising his head. "Now we eat."

Alfred was quick to move a few pieces of bruschetta to his plate and take a large bite out of one.

"Mmph, s'good!" He said, eyes opened wide in surprise.

"Of course it is!" Lovino snapped. He took a bite himself and chewed slowly. Just a bit too much garlic, actually, but he doubted if Alfred would notice. Alfred was on his second piece, picking up bits of tomatoes that had fallen to his plate and stuffing them into his mouth at the same time. Apparently he didn't eat only hamburgers, after all.

Alfred was done with his portion in a disturbingly short amount of time – did he even _taste_ what he was eating, Lovino wondered, or did it work like a vacuum cleaner? – and looked at Lovino questioningly.

Lovino shrugged, enjoying his food at a normal pace, and Alfred quickly took added more bruschetta onto his plate. He ate slightly slower this time around.

"This is really good, Lovino," he said again.

Lovino just ignored him, taking a long sip of wine. Of course it was!

"Thanks for helping me," Alfred said in a lower voice, and his hand touched Lovino's knee. Lovino stared at him, eyes wide, a blush starting to rise – and then Alfred grinned, his normal huge dumb smile, and took a big bite of bruschetta.

"_Sciocco_," Lovino said between bites.

* * *

><p><em>Notes &amp; translations:<em>

va bene = okay

bene = fine, good

sì = yes

Dio = God

sciocco = stupid

Christo = Christ

certo = of course

Gesù = Jesus

*Okay, author wants to let readers know I'm a very bad cook in RL! But I'm actually making/have made these recipes, in order to help write the fic (best idea ever, btw).

*Author also does not know Italian very well! Just a few words. If you catch something terribly wrong please let me know!

*'pommi dei mori' is Italian for 'apple of the Moors,' which somehow got translated into French as 'pomme d'amour,' or 'apple of love'.

*The tomato is a much more important part of traditional food in southern Italy.

*Julia Child enjoyed drinking wine while cooking. That's the way to do it, Julia.

*search youtube for how to cut basil, if you're interested.

*All the videos I looked up about dicing tomatoes had them leaving out the seeds! What a waste. Like one person commented on a video, the juices and seeds add flavor. I like to think that Romano, coming from the poorer provinces of Italy, wouldn't have wasted it either!


	2. Chapter 2: pasta with snap peas

Fandom: Hetalia

Rating: M

Pairing: Alfred/Lovino, (others later maybe?)

Summary: _Lovino stared at him, eyes wide, a blush starting to rise – and then Alfred grinned, his normal huge dumb smile, and took a big bite of bruschetta._ Alfred wants to learn to cook, and Lovino teaches him. They both learn a little more along the way. AU, human names used.

*****Re-uploaded to correct a zillion spelling errors! sorry! *facepalms***

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><p><em>pomme d'amour<em>

* * *

><p>"Ve, Lovino, I need your help!"<p>

Lovino could hear Feliciano's voice drift over from the doorway as he lay face down on the couch. He had no desire to move, hadn't really moved at all, actually, except to eat and piss, for the past few days. Not even a shower. He was just too tired. (Maybe a little sad, too, not that he would ever admit that to his little brother.) But it wasn't often Feliciano asked him for help. So he rolled his head over, just a little, to mumble, "What?"

"My friend needs help learning to cook! Ve, do you remember Alfred?"

Lovino tuned Feliciano out for a second as he searched his memory for an 'Alfred.'

"No," Lovino said.

"Ve, the American! Remember, blond hair, pretty eyes, tall? He called me – he wants to learn how to cook! That's a good thing actually, he only eats hamburgers, I think, and - "

"No," Lovino said again, although he actually meant, _no I will not help you or him, please shut up and go away, Feliciano_, as opposed to _no, I don't remember this Alfred person_ _you speak of_. Unfortunately Feliciano could never detect the not-so-subtle hints Lovino always dropped.

"Ve, I thought you could do it! You're a really good cook, Lovi, and I have to finish these illustrations before they're due, and he really really needs help, and you don't have much to do now that you're not working at the restaurant, and – "

"NO, dammit!" Lovino shouted, pulling the pillow over his head, as if that would block out Feliciano. Not that it would, Lovino knew from experience. Feliciano was just as good of a cook as Lovino, why couldn't he just do it and leave Lovino alone!

Silence. Lovino knew that was a bad sign, especially the longer it went on. Feliciano probably had _that _face on, the one that always won arguments. He knew he was screwed when he felt Feliciano's hand gently touching his shoulder.

Then, quietly: "Ve, you don't have to if you don't want to, _fratello_. I just thought...you love cooking, _sì_?" The hand had moved off of his shoulder and was rubbing comforting circles on his back, now. Dammit.

That was the end of Lovino's weeks-long pity fest, and the start of him teaching Alfred how to cook.

And now he was back at Alfred's. Again.

"_Dannazione_," he muttered. Why did Feliciano always win?

He sighed, pinched his nose, and then slammed his fist against the door.

A couple of minutes later, right before Lovino had decided to turn around and leave, the door popped open to reveal Alfred's warm smile.

"Heyyy, Lovino!" The guy was insanely cheerful. It was not normal, Lovino decided. Alfred F. Jones was _not normal_.

"Did you get everything on the list?" Lovino said. He had left a list of utensils to get before he left the house last time. He had still brought along a couple of things just in case, though.

"Well, pretty much, yeah! Want to come in?" Alfred stepped back to let Lovino into the house.

"Thanks," Lovino muttered, as Alfred took his jacket from him. He marched into the kitchen and left the American to catch up with him. He set the ingredients he had brought with him on the counter – he'd have to start calling Alfred to buy them beforehand, he supposed.

Alfred entered the kitchen, smiling. "So, what are we making today?"

"A snap pea pasta with cherry tomatoes," Lovino said.

"Oh, so we can use stuff from the garden!"

"_Sì_, obviously," Lovino replied.

"Cool. Should we go there first?" Alfred looked at Lovino. He was surprisingly, well, _subordinate_ to Lovino in the matters of kitchen. Which he very well should be, dammit! Lovino thought. But from what he knew of Alfred – and from all the stories Feliciano told – didn't reflect this kind of behavior. It was very strange.

Alfred led him out back to the tiny garden – most everything was planted in pots or plastic containers, which sat on the grass beside a tiny dirt plot. Not that Lovino could complain, he lived in an apartment with no yard whatsoever, and all of his vegetables and herbs were planted in ceramic pots as well.

Lovino had taken a quick tour before he had left last time, which had given him a good idea of what kind of dishes to make. Today, though, they just needed three things.

"Snap peas, cherry tomatoes, and basil," he told Alfred, then watched the other man gather the snap peas and tomatoes. He did everything correctly, so Lovino didn't have to bitch at him, just tell him how much they needed for the dish. He did have to direct him on the basil, though.

"You take the leaves from the top, _va_ _bene_?" Alfred and Lovino knelt by the pot containing the green, fragrant herb, the bowls of picked tomatoes and peas resting next to them. "And see how there are little leaves growing in right at the base? Careful not to hurt those, we use them next, after they are grown."

Alfred's hands were careful, grasping the stalk of the leaf between thumb and forefinger and pinching it off.

Lovino pinched one off, too. "Mmm – smell them." Alfred tentatively raised his up to his nose. "Good, _sì_?"

Alfred sniffed. "Hmm, yeah. Not bad!"

In the kitchen, Lovino pulled his trusty apron on. It was a traditional four-way apron, tied at the waist, permanently stained in spots but soft from many washings. He'd had it for a few years – since before he had gotten to America, even. It reminded him of home.

Alfred surprised him, pulling one on too, with a flourish. It was a checkered red pattern, with a pocket on the chest that had some cute design on it. It was something a little old lady would wear. It was ridiculous.

"They didn't have a red, white, and blue one! Sad, huh? This was as close as I could get!"

Lovino just rolled his eyes. He looked like an idiot.

He moved over to the stove, taking a frying pan and large pot with him. Then he handed two lemons he had brought with him to Alfred. "You probably don't have a juicer, eh? I forgot to tell you to get that. Just cut them in half, we'll just have to squeeze them by hand."

"Squeeze them into what?" Alfred asked him after he had cut them in half.

"The frying pan. We're making a lemon-wine sauce."

"More wine? Jeez! Trying to get me drunk, huh?" Alfred winked at Lovino, grinning.

"_Sciocco_! _No_!" Lovino snapped back. Alfred just laughed, squeezing the lemons over the frying pan, easily crushing them one-handed. _Strong_, Lovino thought. He could imagine Alfred picking up a car one handed and...why was he thinking this?

"I need a wine opener. Did you get one?" Lovino asked abruptly.

"Yep! Lemme see, where'd I put it?" Alfred pulled open a drawer, rummaging with one hand. "A-ha! Here ya go." He'd gotten a practical one, thank _Dio_.

Lovino took it from him and started opening up the wine. "Mince up a couple of cloves of garlic. You still have some from last time?"

"Yes, sir! We sure do."

Lovino pulled out a cork and poured a little into the frying pan. "We're using white wine for this dish," he told Alfred.

"Why's that?"

"Well – you use dry white wine or dry fortified wine for light sauces or creams."

"'Kay," Alfred said, not really understanding. Which was fine, these were things that took years to learn, Lovino thought. Things that took practice, experimentation, investigation, hours standing over a stove, patiently trying new techniques, new ingredients.

"Garlic goes into the frying pan," Lovino told Alfred. He'd cut them up using the method Lovino had taught him last time, still a bit clumsily.

"Now, pasta." Lovino carried the pot over to the sink, filling it with water. He placed it back on the stove. "Salt." Alfred handed him the salt.

"You add salt for flavor. Just a little," Lovino commented as he started the burner to boil the water. "And you don't add the pasta until the water is boiling, either. No matter how much you want to, _capsico_?"

"Got it!"

"Now – the sauce is starting to bubble. Get a spatula and sauté the garlic until it's tender."

"How can you tell?"

Lovino huffed. "Before it gets brown, _va bene_?"

"Um, okay." Alfred looked skeptical.

Lovino glared.

"Okay, I believe you! Yeesh, I was just asking. Seriously, I don't know how to make anything except pancakes. And Mattie makes those way better, anyways."

Lovino could believe it. He was probably saving this guy's life, or at least prolonging it by 10 years.

"Seriously, thanks, man!" Alfred turned to him and smiled. "Mattie doesn't have time to teach me, and frankly, he'd probably stab me with a fork within 10 minutes." He looked ridiculous in his plaid apron. It had little white frills, _l'amore di Dio_. "But you, you're really a really good cook, ya know?" He paused. "I don't know what I'd do without you!"

Lovino felt heat rising in his face. Alfred looked over at Lovino, spatula held in one hand, stupid grin on his face.

"Stir the garlic! _Gesù_!" he snapped, folding his arms, glaring.

"Right, okay!" Was he laughing at Lovino? That idiot!

After a few minutes of Lovino said sharply, "Okay, it's good. Turn off the burner."

"Shouldn't it be hot, though?"

"Not for this dish. It's too thin to hold heat for very long anyways."

Alfred nodded and switched off the burner.

Lovino added the angel hair pasta to the pot of water, which had finally begun to boil. He pulled another spatula from the drawer. "The pasta should be _al dente_, which means cooking it until it's just slightly hard." Alfred came closer, looking over his shoulder into the pot. "For angel hair pasta, usually about 1 - 2 minutes is good."

"While we wait, cut the tomatoes in half and slice the basil." Alfred disappeared from behind him to follow his instructions. Lovino stirred the pasta a little. It was getting close to being done. He went to watch Alfred. He was slicing up the basil, rolling it up first like he had done last time. He was also humming a little tune under his breath, something Lovino couldn't pick out. It reminded Lovino a little of Antonio, standing at the stove, happy –

"What about the knives I told you to buy?" Lovino asked abruptly.

"Oh, er, well...I'm thinking those are gonna be next paycheck. Sorry dude, but your list was super long, and that's a lotta dough to drop at once!"

Lovino scowled. "I thought you were serious about learning how to cook."

"I am! It's just, like, $400 bucks is a lot, okay? We don't all live on fancy four-star restaurant salaries, you know!"

"Colander!" Lovino barked out. He couldn't – did he not _know _that Lovino had quit the restaurant? Or was he bringing it up on purpose?

"Uh – the bottom cupboard next to the stove." Alfred indicated with his head.

Lovino pulled the brand new colander out from its place, yanking the price tag off a bit harder than was necessary. He placed it in the sink, and then went to get the pasta. He drained it out, put it back in the pot and onto the stove. He took a deep breath. He didn't think Alfred was purposely being a jerk, it just didn't quite fit with his personality. He's just oblivious, like Antonio, Lovino thought. Why do these idiots keep coming to me? It's like a curse!

"Okay, now we add the sauce and everything else to the pasta. Including the Gorgonzola cheese." Lovino had brought this with him too, knowing that Alfred probably only had Kraft singles in his refrigerator, _l'orrore_.

"'Kay," Alfred said, moving to put his halved cherry tomatoes and sliced basil into the pot.

"Sauce too," Lovino instructed, and then added the snap peas last. "Now – " he took the spatula Alfred had used in the sauce, and together with the other spatula, tossed the ingredients together. Alfred watched him closely.

"And now – set the table," Lovino said, laying the spatulas down.

"That's it?"

"_Sì_," Lovino said.

Alfred made a pleased sound, a smile on his face as he went to set the table.

"What?"

"This is pretty easy!"

Lovino snorted. Of course it was, he was making it easy.

"Way easier than Iron Chef!"

Lovino just rolled his eyes. He put the pasta into a nicer dish and carried it to the table.

"Maybe we can do that at the end, like a competition!"

"_Sì_," Lovino said, "if you want me to _destroy you_."

Alfred laughed hard at that. "Yeah, you're probably right," he said.

Lovino grabbed the wine from the counter, and then the two of them sat down together. Lovino poured two glasses of wine, and then bowed his head, ignoring Alfred's longing look at the pasta. He sent up a quick prayer, said "Amen," and opened his eyes.

"Eatin' time!" Alfred crowed, dishing out the pasta onto his and Lovino's plates. "Slippery little buggers," he said, struggling with the slick noodles.

Lovino sighed impatiently and snatched the spatulas from Alfred's hands.

"Try not to inhale it like last time," he said, although he knew that was highly unlikely.

"Pfft, I don't inhale. I'm just a fast eater."

Right.

Lovino took his time eating at a normal pace, content to enjoy the lemony bite of the sauce with the fresh garden ingredients. Damn, he was good. Alfred looked like he was enjoying it too, although at a faster pace than Lovino. He had a silly little grin on his face.

"What?" Lovino asked.

"I was just thinking of our future competition. I think I could beat you..."

Lovino snorted in disbelief.

"...if it was hamburgers!"

_Right._

* * *

><p><em>Notes &amp; translations:<em>

va bene = okay

sì = yes

sciocco = stupid

Gesù = Jesus

dannazione = dammit

l'amore di Dio = for the love of God

l'orrore = the horror

fratello = brother

capsico = understand

*Thanks for the comments! I'm glad you like the author's notes, angelstryke – I kind of like researching a littllle too much for my own good. And hopefully it's not too boring for y'all – I know it's a bit slow, but things _will _happen. Next up we learn a litle more behind Alfred's desire to learn how to cook.

*Four-way aprons are classic! They allow the chef four clean surfaces to wipe his/her hands on before having to change into a new apron. Super functional! Alfred's is more decorative. Dorky but adorable!

*Alcohol doesn't evaporate instantly when you cook with it! Research from the USDA shows that 85 percent of the alcohol remains after wine is added to a boiling liquid and then removed from the heat. The longer a dish is cooked, however, the less alcohol remains. Good thing I looked this up, 'cause I had Lovino saying otherwise!

*There's also tons online about what kinds of wines to use with certain dishes. Basically, red = red meat or sauces, white = poultry or seafood, and desserts. But I'm no expert...

* '_al dente'_ means "to the tooth" or "to the bite" for pasta that is to be cooked to be firm but not hard.

*Angel hair pasta is _capellini_ in Italy, a very thin variety of pasta. Capellini literally means 'thin hair.'

*Lovino would totally be an Iron Chef in RL, I'm sure of it. That would be so much fun to watch! Or write. _I might have to write that..._


	3. Chapter 3: linguine with pesto trapanese

Fandom: Hetalia

Rating: M

Pairing: Alfred/Lovino, (others later maybe?)

Summary: _Lovino stared at him, eyes wide, a blush starting to rise – and then Alfred grinned, his normal huge dumb smile, and took a big bite of bruschetta._ Alfred wants to learn to cook, and Lovino teaches him. They both learn a little more along the way. AU, human names used.

* * *

><p><em>pomme d'amour<em>

* * *

><p>"Don't you know any recipes without tomatoes?"<p>

Lovino's first response to that question was always to snap. It had worked well in the past, no reason to stop now.

"What the hell's wrong with tomatoes, you stupid idiot?"

Most people would cower in fear at Lovino's tone, or apologize, or beg for their life – but not Alfred. The stupid idiot just shrugged. "I dunno, I like tomatoes as much as the next guy – " _as long as the next guy wasn't Lovino_ " – but, I dunno, I was just wondering, maybe we're not making one of those dishes because you don't actually know any?" And then he had the gall to turn to Lovino, sneaking a bit of almond into his mouth, and raise an eyebrow.

The stupid idiot was serious.

"Are you serious?"

"Well, yeah?"

"_Sciocco_! Of course I do!" Lovino hissed. He snatched the bag of almonds from Alfred's hands and dumped them into the frying pan that sat on the stove.

"Soooo – "

Lovino's next breath came hissing through his teeth.

"Um, what are we making today?" Thankfully Alfred changed the subject. But then he sidled up to Lovino, so they were pressed closer together, trying to watch Lovino as he added a little olive oil to the frying pan so he could sauté the almonds.

"Linguine with pesto Trapanese," Lovino snarled at him. "Spatula!" He commanded Alfred, sharply.

Maybe a little too sharply, because Alfred said, "Okay, jeez! What's with you today?" He went and got a spatula from the drawer, handing it over to Lovino. "You're grumpier than usual! Did something happen?"

He seemed genuinely curious, so Lovino actually felt a little guilty for snapping, "_No_!" But there was no way he was going to tell Alfred he had stopped by Antonio's restaurant earlier today to stare at his place of former employment and generally make himself more miserable. And by 'stop' he meant 'hide in an alley up the street and peer around the corner.' Feliciano would be so disappointed in him. But he couldn't help it, it had been one of the few places he'd felt truly happy at these past few years and then he'd had to go and screw it all up...should've just kept his mouth shut..._Christo_, he could feel tears welling up again...

"Um, Lovino?"

"_What_?" he snarled, just to cover up the fact that maybe he was just about to cry. Not that he _was_ or anything, but just in case.

"What do you want me to do?"

Lovino swallowed and pushed away the bad emotions. Of course, he was here to teach Alfred.

"_Sì_, _certo_. So, pesto is famous in Italy, _sì_? This a twist on that, a Sicilian recipe from Trapani using almonds and tomatoes. So we make the pesto sauce first, okay?"

Alfred nodded, standing close to Lovino again.

"First, I sauté the almond slivers in a little olive oil."

"The good kind, right?" Alfred interrupted, smiling a little.

"_Sì_, Alfred, you got the good kind." The good kind meant the olive oil came from Italy, of course.

"Then we will chop up the slivers as small as possible, along with a handful of basil and 2 cloves of garlic and throw in a dash of salt on top of that. Can you..."

"Yep, I got it!" Alfred moved a little farther down the counter and got the cutting board out. "Basil and 2 cloves of garlic, right?"

"_Sì_. Almonds should be done in a minute." The olive oil was bubbling in the pan. Lovino poked the almonds around to get them nice and brown.

"So what's the twist?" Alfred asked.

"Twist?"

"Yeah, you said pesto with a twist...?"

"Oh! Yes, pesto is normally made with pine nuts, not almonds."

"Ah, okay."

There was a brief moment of silence.

"Why aren't we doing that?"

"I...I don't know! I guess, I – I like this recipe." Lovino hadn't expected Alfred to ask _why_ they were making certain recipes, and he certainly couldn't explain he was teaching his favorite (and easiest) recipes, the ones that had been taught to him by his grandfathers, back when he was a child, living in Rome.

But Alfred didn't seem to notice any hesitation. "Okay. I'm sure it's great, then!" He said cheerfully.

Lovino turned off the burner and moved the pan so it wasn't sitting directly on the heat source. He looked over Alfred's shoulder to see how he was doing. He was actually doing fine and seemed to have the technique down. Plus, he had gotten the good set of knives Lovino had recommended. Maybe it was to make up for his earlier snappishness, because technically Alfred had nothing to do with Lovino's grumpy state, but for some reason Lovino felt the urge to say something..._nice_.

"Ah...er," Lovino was struggling. He had to poke his throat in encouragement. Or to check if he was choking on something, maybe that was the better explanation.

"Hmm?" Alfred didn't even pause to look over at Lovino. Which was good, because then Lovino probably wouldn't have been able to get the next word out.

"_Bene_," the word came out like a growl. It actually sounded more like a curse than a compliment. Oh well, it was the thought that counted?

"Really? Thanks!" Alfred seemed to know what he was talking about. "I've been practicing! Just ask Mattie. I've been chopping up all sorts of things, although Mattie said I didn't _really _need to cut up the chocolate chips for the pancakes but – "

Lovino murmured something in agreement, moving away from Alfred. "The almonds are ready."

"'Kay, just a sec."

Lovino moved to get a pot of water out for the linguine and start it to boil. Alfred seemed more talkative than usual today, as though the laser focus from the last few times had lessened a little as he grew more comfortable in the kitchen. It made Lovino curious.

"So." Lovino cleared his throat as he went to get the grater. Alfred had moved onto the basil, putting the almonds into a bowl, out of the way. Lovino picked up the cheese he had instructed Alfred to buy earlier – Pecorino – and started grating it.

"Where did this...interest in cooking come from?" Lovino asked.

"Oh! Ah, well, I just wanted to learn how to make good food!"

That made sense, Lovino thought, except for the fact that Alfred lived on hamburgers and fries and milkshakes and had never seen anything wrong with that before.

"Did you hit your head?" Lovino asked, only slightly sarcastically, although Alfred was still talking and didn't really hear him.

"One morning I woke up, the sun shining, birds chirping, and I realized my life had no meaning! The dashing good looks, showy car, pricey house, good friends and family, nothing mattered as long as I couldn't cook a decent meal!"

"Did you get that from a movie?" Lovino asked suspiciously.

"So then I...huh? Haha, no! What makes you say that?"

"Mmm," Lovino made a noise to say he clearly didn't believe him. It wasn't like Alfred to care about what he ate – obviously living off of McDonald's sent a clear message he _didn't care at all_ – so why all of the sudden –

Oh_. _

_Oh_.

Alfred doesn't care what _he _eats, so that must mean –

"You're trying to impress someone!" Lovino accused, and looked over at Alfred for confirmation of this. Alfred's shoulders hunched, contradicting his loud exclamation of "No!"

"Really, I just – I happen to be interested in learning – and you know, you're the best – and – " Alfred was loudly and strongly and slightly incoherently denying the facts, so Lovino just glared and said, "Are you done with the basil and garlic and almonds?"

"Oh. Uh. Yeah."

"Chop up the tomatoes. Small pieces. Add those to the bowl and mix up everything as much as you can, so it's not too chunky. Add a bit of pepper too." Lovino reached past Alfred to dump the cheese into the bowl. He snuck a look at Alfred while he was at it, and saw a hint of a blush across his cheeks. _And he thought he could hide it,_ Lovino thought.

Lovino turned his attention back to the pot of boiling water, adding the linguine in. Who could it be? Lovino tried to think of all the people Alfred hung out with. Not that Lovino would know, he hardly saw Alfred anyways, except now with these cooking lessons, of course. Could it be that little Japanese guy he'd seen with Alfred one time at that one party? They had been talking and smiling – fine, Alfred was always smiling, how could you tell anyways. That Japanese man seemed okay, except he had also been talking to the potato bastard and definitely the potato bastard had been enjoying that conversation. That was enough to convince Lovino he wasn't good enough for Alfred. The tall Russian...? No. Wait. That other guy. What was his name? Shorter than Alfred, funny eyebrows..._dannazione_, he'd have to ask Feliciano about it.

Lovino stirred the pasta to keep it from sticking on the bottom. It was just about done. Alfred had stopped talking after all, perhaps noticing Lovino hadn't said anything else against his denials. Lovino looked over to check on him. He was determinedly mashing up the ingredients in the bowl to get them to the right consistency.

"Let me see," Lovino said. Alfred showed him the contents of the bowl. "Fine," Lovino said. "Get me the colander and measuring cup."

Alfred set the bowl down and placed the colander in the sinker for Lovino, then held up the measuring cup with a questioning look on his face. "We'll save some of the pasta water to help mix the pesto and linguine together." Alfred nodded and put the cup on the counter next to the sink. Lovino carried over the bowl and poured a small amount of the pasta water into the measuring cup, then drained the rest of the pot. He put the pasta back into the pan and back on the top of the stove, not on the warm burner of course.

"_Va bene,_ mix the pesto into the linguine," he directed Alfred while he went to grab the measuring cup filled with pasta water. Returning, he looked into the pot to see how the linguine looked. He poured a little bit of pasta water in to help the pesto coat the noodles more evenly.

"I think it's good." Lovino pulled out the usual serving dish for Alfred to put the finished pasta into.

"Yeah, it looks good! Smells even better," Alfred said as he dumped the linguine into the serving bowl. Lovino got the plates and forks as Alfred set the course on the table.

"Let me guess, wine?" Alfred asked, even as he got out the bottle opener.

"_Sciocco_," Lovino just scoffed as he pulled out two glasses. "Wine is in the refrigerator." Lovino had gotten a nice, traditional white wine to go with the dish. He hadn't put wine glasses on the list before, but now that he was thinking of it, he may as well make a new list.

Alfred brought over the open bottle of wine and poured their glasses full. Lovino had already served them both a plateful of pasta, and said his customary quick prayer before they both started eating.

It was rather quiet affair, particularly because Alfred wasn't making any of his usual cheerful comments or jokes or asking questions. Lovino didn't think it was wrong to learn how to cook for someone – as long as the person could appreciate the effort, of course – so why didn't Alfred just admit to it, laugh off his embarrassment, like he normally would? Lovino shrugged it off. It wasn't his fucking problem. It wasn't like he _cared_. He went back to eating his delicious linguine pesto, although he may have been stabbing a little more forcefully than necessary. Alfred didn't seem to notice Lovino's intense emotions, concentrated on his own plate of food.

It was like a little riddle for Lovino to figure out. Lovino looked at Alfred, who was bent over his plate slurping up his noodles rather ungracefully. Alfred caught his eye and sort of half-grinned at his own sloppiness, linguine hanging out of his mouth. Hard to believe that Alfred might actually have some sort of secret or mystery to him, but apparently he did. And _maybe_ Lovino was just a little interested in this. Why would he care who Alfred was learning to cook for, really? It was just nice to think about something other than Antonio and the restaurant for a little while!

That was all.

* * *

><p><em>Notes &amp; translations:<em>

bene = good

va bene = okay

sì = yes

sciocco = stupid

dannazione = dammit

certo = of course

Christo = Christ

* Not many notes because this dish is easy, I guess...?

* Linguine means "little tongues" in Italian. It originated from the Campania region (South Italy!) and is typically served with pesto or seafood.

* The old-fashioned way of making pesto is by chopping it up, either with a sharp knife, or mezzaluna (a curved blade with handles on both ends). Instead of using a blender or food processor.

* Pecorino is a kind of hard Italian cheese made from ewe's milk. There are 4 different varieties of Pecorino, and Pecorino Romano is the most well known outside of Italy, and the most well known in the US! Yay Romano! (according to Wiki. if you're really interested in cheese, you can look up 'list of cheeses' in Wiki. _So much cheese...)_


	4. Chapter 4: spaghetti alla carbonara

Fandom: Hetalia

Rating: M

Pairing: Alfred/Lovino, mention of Antonio/Lovino and Alfred/Arthur

Summary: _Lovino stared at him, eyes wide, a blush starting to rise – and then Alfred grinned, his normal huge dumb smile, and took a big bite of bruschetta._ Alfred wants to learn to cook, and Lovino teaches him. They both learn a little more along the way. AU, human names used.

* * *

><p><em>pomme d'amour<em>

* * *

><p>Lovino hovered at the doorway of his brother's room, watching him work for a minute. "Feliciano?"<p>

"Mm?" Feliciano was sitting at his desk, working on a drawing. Lovino watched him pick up a pen, look at it, and discard it for another.

"Can I...come in?" Not quite what Lovino wanted to ask, but he was working his way there.

"_Sì_! Of course!"

Lovino walked across the cluttered room to stand over his brother's shoulder. The drawing Feliciano was working on was a mass of lines, short skittering ones that repeated across the page, forming what looked like a storm cloud in motion. Although Lovino preferred Feliciano's cheerful illustrations, he had to admit these newer, more experimental drawings were interesting in their own way.

"Looks good," he acknowledged, and Feliciano cheered.

"Ve, I think so too! Do you think a gallery would like them?" Feliciano hoped to move away from commercial work to a more artistic practice.

"Eh, I don't know, have you applied yet?"

"Not yet! I think after this one I'll have enough for a show!"

Lovino grunted. He watched his brother move the pen across the page.

"So..." There was a trick to asking Feliciano questions. You had to be direct without giving too much away. And he could always tell when Lovino was bullshitting, and even worse, make (truthful) observations that Lovino really didn't want to hear. Lovino was only successful with this approach about a third of the time, in all honesty.

"...this thing with Alfred."

"Ve, you haven't been too mean have you?" Feliciano turned around in his chair to look at his brother.

"I'm not mean!" Lovino felt his blood pressure rising. "Just because I'm _honest_ and some people can't _handle_ it – "

"Is he doing good? Do you like it?"

"It's fine. He's...it's not terrible."

"Ah, _bene_! Alfred said so too!"

"It's not – what?"

"I saw him at the supermarket! He said he was enjoying the lessons. And that you're a good teacher! He was buying good food, too. Not the instant things!" Feliciano gave a little shudder at the thought. "I knew you would do a great job, Lovino!"

Lovino blushed.

"I – I am?"

"_Certo_!" And, surprisingly, Feliciano knew just what his brother was thinking. "I didn't even ask him, he just told me!" He smiled happily at his brother.

"Oh." Lovino flailed for a moment. "_Dannazione_, I knew that!" He cleared his throat, tried to get back to his original objective.

"I wanted to ask." He coughed. Feliciano was staring at him, it was hard to look him in the eye. "He's learning to cook for someone."

Feliciano frowned. "He is?"

"Yes. I...are they...appreciative of this?" Whoever _they_ were, Lovino just needed a name.

Feliciano cocked his head. "Hmm, I dunno. Ve, he does like to cook, but he's not very good at it. This one time, he brought out some scones, oh! They were awful, Lovi! Black all over, so hard, you couldn't even break them in half – "

Lovino nodded in sympathy. "_Sì_, I'm sure. And the guy, whatshisname, Ham-ah...?"

"Oh, Arthur?"

_Yes! _Lovino could recall the guy now, short, brownish hair, weird eyebrows...

"_Sì_, Arthur. He must like Italian food."

"Ve, I dunno, Lovi. He's English, so I'm sure he likes anything that tastes like real food..."

"_Bene_, I was just checking, I don't want Alfred to waste his time."

Feliciano smiled. "Aww, Lovino – "

"Just because it's a waste of _my_ time too, _sciocco_! Don't go thinking anything else!" The other thing with Feliciano, you had to cut him off before he could get any idiotic ideas in his head. Lovino was already backing out the door, objective completed.

Feliciano opened his mouth.

"_Don't_!" Lovino yelled right before he shut the door to his brother's room.

He could hear Feliciano laughing at him through the door.

It was worth it, though, to get information. He felt a little more prepared when he knocked on Alfred's door for the next cooking lesson.

Alfred opened it with his usual big smile on his face. "Hey, Lovino! Come in!" He didn't bother waiting for Lovino to return his greeting anymore.

Lovino walked in and gave Alfred his jacket to put away. He then headed straight to the kitchen. When Alfred came in, he said, "Spaghetti alla carbonara," already knowing what Alfred was going to ask.

"Spaghetti? But I already know how to do that," Alfred said.

"No, it's different from your crap that comes out of a jar," Lovino said. "It's – there's no tomatoes," he said, turning away to start getting utensils and things out of the cupboards.

There was a pause behind him. "Oh," Alfred said. "I wondered when you gave me the ingredients list."

Lovino just kind of _hmphed_ and continued his preparations. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Alfred grinning at him like he knew what he was thinking. If it was anyone else they'd probably be teasing him right now, but Alfred just leaned into his shoulder and said, "So what do ya need?"

"Can you chop up the shallots fine, and chop the pancetta coarse?"

"Okey-dokey," Alfred said, shuffling off to get a cutting board and knife. Lovino took out the Pecorino Romano cheese from last lesson and started grating it. It was silent as they both went about their respective duties, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Alfred was humming a little, again, but stopped to turn to Lovino.

"I was thinking..."

"_No_," Lovino said automatically, then paused when he saw Alfred's confused look. "I mean – uh – go on. What?"

"Instead of pancetta, couldn't I use bacon?" Alfred asked. "I know, I know, it's not Italian, but pancetta is kind of expensive, and it seems kinda like the same thing, you know?"

Lovino bit the inside of his cheek. His immediate response was to scream _"No!"_, that Alfred was learning how to cook Italian so he _must_ use Italian ingredients, and _"No substitutions!"_ was also reverberating in his mind, a recollection from his Italian grandfathers. Antonio had been a little more easy in the kitchen, if only because owning a restaurant meant things changed or went wrong frequently. Lovino had hated it at first, but sometimes the wrong kind of vegetables would show up, or someone would come in with a food allergy, and gradually, well...Lovino had relaxed. Just a _little_.

"_Sì_, okay, fine, you can try, it won't be as good! And don't try it with any Italians, either! _Ever_," he added for emphasis.

Alfred just smiled. "Okay!" He turned to finish the chopping and soon asked, "What's next?"

"Large frying pan. Cook them in olive oil and butter until the pancetta is brown. A couple of minutes," he added as an afterthought. It was always good to give a little extra instruction to the American.

"Gotcha."

"Open up the bottle of wine, too," Lovino added, since turning the ingredients in the pan with a spatula wouldn't be a hard task.

"You got it, boss!" Alfred said cheerfully.

Lovino scowled. "After they're done," he nodded at the pan, "add a fourth a cup of wine until it boils." Alfred was nodding as he added the pancetta and shallots into the pan, listening. "And then you boil it until the amount is reduced to half – the amount of the liquid in the pan, _va bene_," Lovino added as he saw Alfred's brows furrow in puzzlement. "After half of that boils away, add the fourth of cup of chicken broth and do the same thing, let half of it boil away."

"Okay," Alfred said, stirring the two ingredients in the pan.

Lovino finished grating and pushed the cheese away from the edge of the counter. This recipe was rather easy, so Lovino figured he'd let Alfred take care of the last few steps. It did leave him with nothing to do, unfortunately. He watched Alfred poke the pancetta and shallot combination around in the bubbling oil and butter, one hand holding the handle of the pan and the other gripping the spatula. He was absorbed in his task, ignoring Lovino, which gave the Italian man time to study his profile.

Feliciano would probably enjoy drawing him, Lovino thought. He had a good forehead, not too big. His nose was straight, his glasses slipping down a little as he bent his head towards the stove. His hair was such a pretty golden color, and Lovino couldn't even mock him for that one strand that stuck straight up, given his own wayward curl that no amount of gel could tame. And his lips– they were moving – and –

"I said, now what? You there, buddy?" Alfred was speaking, one big hand waving in front of Lovino's face.

Lovino jumped back, bumping awkwardly into the counter. "What?" he snapped, trying to cover up his slip-up.

"After the chicken broth...?" Alfred prompted.

"Oh. Remove the pan from heat, start cooking the spaghetti." Lovino folded his arms across his chest defensively. _Who cares what he looks like?_ _I'm just teaching how to cook, not drawing him._

Alfred set the pan of water on the stove and started it boiling. Then he turned to Lovino expectantly.

That was the problem with this recipe. Too easy.

"Okay, fine, we do the eggs," Lovino said. "Four. Separate the yolks from the whites." He watched as Alfred moved slowly to the carton of eggs on the counter, eyes drifting over expectantly to Lovino.

"Here." Lovino pushed the two empty bowls he had gotten out earlier in front of Alfred. He came closer to stand next to Alfred, picking one egg up out of the carton. "Crack it, straight down, like this," he said, striking the length of the egg flat against the countertop. "Then you split the shell," his fingers carefully pulled the thin white shell into two, "and let the whites drip out while keeping the yolk in the shell." He demonstrated, transferring the yellow yolk back in forth between the two halves of the shell in a rocking motion, letting the translucent white liquid drop into the bowl as the yolk remained in the shell. He then freed the yolk into the other empty bowl, and put the eggshells into the sink.

"Cool!" Alfred said, picking up another egg to do the same. Lovino backed away a little, letting Alfred work. It didn't take Alfred very long to do three eggs, and the water for the pasta still hadn't started boiling. Then it was...awkward. Well, quiet. Lovino leaned back against the kitchen sink and fidgeted. He should have picked a different recipe!

Alfred stood in front of the stove and looked thoughtfully at the pot of water. "Sooo," he started, turning his gaze to Lovino. Lovino made himself keep eye contact, even when Alfred wiggled his eyebrows at him.

"How's Antonio?"

"_WHAT_?"

Alfred actually took a step back, surprised. "Uh, you know, the guy you're dating?"

Lovino's fingers were clenched so tight across his arms that he would probably have finger-shaped bruises tomorrow. "Are you _JOKING_?"

"Uh..." Alfred didn't seem to know how to respond to that, eyes darting back and forth across the kitchen, searching for something. Before he could continue, Lovino leapt in.

"No!" And then, because Lovino never knew when to shut up, "Are you with Arthur?"

Alfred shoulders jerked, and he blinked, mouth open. His eyes flicked away, and then back to Lovino's. "Ha ha, no! What makes you think that? Jeez, Lovino!"

There was a long pause between the two, Lovino seething and Alfred...turning away to put the spaghetti in the boiling water, muttering something about Lovino being weird and nothing going on...

Lovino was shaking, arms still clenched tightly across his chest, trying to gain control over his emotions. _Dio_, he always did this, shouting out things in the heat of the moment, simultaneously defensive and lashing out. And possibly – well, okay, it was very likely thatAlfred really didn't know that Lovino and Antonio had broken up. _He really is clueless! _

Lovino buried his face in his hands for a moment, knowing Alfred wasn't looking. Asking about Antonio had been like a slap in the face, but it wasn't fair for Lovino to ask about Arthur. Was it?

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._ He hadn't meant to ask Alfred about Arthur and this whole cooking thing. It wasn't any of his business, whatever Alfred was doing, anyways.

"Um. I have to dump the water out." Alfred said, interrupting Lovino's thoughts. Lovino jerked upright, cheeks flaming as Alfred caught him slumped over with his head in his hands.

"Right?" Alfred prompted. He was asking Lovino a question.

"What?"

"I'm assuming I should drain the water out of the spaghetti?"

"Oh," Lovino slid out of the way of the sink, his face on fire. "_Sì_," he mumbled.

Alfred poured the water and spaghetti into a colander, letting the water sift through to the drain. As he went to put the spaghetti back into the pot, Lovino cleared his throat.

"Ah, now. Add the spaghetti to the pan and put back on the heat." He waited as Alfred went back to the stove with the pasta. "Then add the egg yolks, cheese, a bit of pepper, and cook it until the pasta is coated."

Alfred nodded his head, shifting the ingredients around in the pan with the spatula to make sure everything got mixed.

"Just a few minutes," Lovino added unnecessarily. If it was awkward before, well, now it was twice as bad. Lovino twisted his hands anxiously in his apron, watching Alfred out of the corner of his eye. Alfred was absorbed in stirring the pasta dish and didn't seem to notice the staring. He seemed to be back to normal, leaving Lovino the only one acting strangely. _Maybe I should stop, then, and just act like – like nothing happened?_

"I think it's almost done," Alfred announced without looking over at Lovino. Lovino came closer – but not _too_ close, after all that – and peered into the dish. "Okay, um. I'll get the dishes." He went to the cupboard and pulled out two plates and glasses. He set the table and then grabbed the half-used bottle of wine to pour for drinks. Alfred brought over the pasta dish and served both of them.

Lovino reached for his wine glass, taking a big gulp as Alfred dove into his helping. Lovino took a small bit from his own plate, deciding to compliment Alfred even if the dish wasn't very good. As he was chewing, though, Alfred looked over at him and mumbled something around his mouthful of food. "Ern't g'ing tuh pr'ah?"

"What?"

Alfred chewed and swallowed, repeating, "Aren't you going to pray?"

_Shit_. Lovino dropped his fork and quickly clasped and his hands and bowed his head in the shortest prayer possible. _And sorry for asking Alfred rude questions...I mean, even if he asked me one first._ Then he went back to work on eating the pasta. Which was good. Really good.

"This is good."

"I'm sorry."

They both spoke at the same time. Lovino looked quickly over at Alfred.

"What?"

"I...I shouldn't have asked you about Antonio. It's none of my business," Alfred looked at him sincerely, his fork hovering over his plate as if waiting for Lovino to accept his apology before he could finish his meal.

"Oh...oh. Um, s-sure. It's fine," Lovino stuttered, confused. He shoved some more food in his mouth to give him time to think. Alfred was apologizing to _him_? Lovino couldn't wrap his mind around it. To _him_? Even though he had been the one to yell?

They ate in silence for a few moments.

"You really think it's good?" Alfred asked, quietly.

Lovino answered honestly. "Yes," he said, and Alfred's brilliant smile made Lovino smile back, just a little.

After they finished, Lovino helped clean up, although he was quick to head to the door as soon as they were done.

"So," he cleared his throat, standing just outside the door. Alfred had his hand on the doorframe, ready to shut it. He looked at Lovino expectantly.

"See you next week?" Lovino managed to get out through a tight throat.

There wasn't any hesitation. "Yes, of course! Thanks Lovino!" One more brilliant flash of white teeth and then Alfred was closing the door.

Lovino let loose a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding and headed home.

* * *

><p><em>Notes &amp; translations:<em>

bene = good

va bene = okay

sì = yes

sciocco = stupid

dannazione = dammit

certo = of course

*_Finally_! This wasn't supposed to take so long to write. I hope this story is flowing okay. Lovino is not an easy to like (love) guy, at least in my headcanon, but they are slowly getting there. Well, it's going to take Alfred longer than Lovino to realize what's happening, but yeah...

*Thanks for the comments, angelstryke! I'm glad you like Lovino the way he is, I agree about the not-too-abrasive personality and it's good it's coming through. And sorry about making you hungry! I have the same problem when I write these.

*pancetta is a type of Italian bacon. American versions of spaghetti alla carbonara use regular bacon, so Alfred is on the right track.

*spaghetti all carbonara has an few interesting origins and legends associated with it. It's translated as 'coal miner's spaghetti' in Italian, and first recorded after the Second World War when Italians were eating eggs and bacon supplied by American troops.

*I'm falling away from the notes now...my goal is to get this done by the end of July, and I've got about 5 to 6 more chapters to go, so. Um. Sorry if you really liked the notes!


	5. Chapter 5: baked ziti

Fandom: Hetalia

Rating: M

Pairing: Alfred/Lovino, mention of past Antonio/Lovino and Alfred/Arthur

Summary: _Lovino stared at him, eyes wide, a blush starting to rise – and then Alfred grinned, his normal huge dumb smile, and took a big bite of bruschetta._ Alfred wants to learn to cook, and Lovino teaches him. They both learn a little more along the way. AU, human names used.

* * *

><p><em>pomme d'amour<em>

* * *

><p>Lovino considered talking to Feliciano after that...<em>thing<em> happened at Alfred's house but in the end, decided not too. Feliciano would probably count that as being mean, Lovino thought. Anyways, his brother was busy with getting ready for another group show, and had regular work to finish besides that.

Lovino sighed from his usual spot on the couch. At least this gave him something to think about besides Antonio. _Hey, I haven't thought about Antonio in a while!...oh. Merda, I just did._ Why did he keep thinking about Alfred, anyways? About the way his face registered shock at Lovino's words, than closed off, going pale. He was always so outgoing and open, seeing him otherwise was just _wrong._

Lovino sighed and banged his head against the couch, although it was much too soft to do anything. He'd have to get up and go over to the wall, but that was too far away. He settled for slapping a hand over his face. _Stop moping around!_ Wasn't that what Antonio had accused him of? _You're always angry, or unhappy, and you never do anything about it. You just lie around!_ Not that that bastard could argue with him about lying around, when that's all he did in his free time away from the restaurant.

Still. Maybe he _should_ do something. These cooking lessons were the first positive things that had happened to Lovino since The Breakup, and Lovino didn't want...he didn't want to go back to before. He liked having something to do. He'd always loved to cook, and Alfred was so eager and willing to listen and learn. _Ok, so I should do something. Fix things._

In the middle of his worrying, Lovino felt his cell phone go off in his pocket. He pulled it out, and to his surprise, it was a text from Alfred.

_hey! i'm free on thurs nite if u wanna make dinner_

Oh. Well, that was reassuring. He was still acting like everything's normal. _So why do I feel differently? Why do I even care?_ He felt the urge to slap himself across the head again. Instead he read the text again. He'd have to think of a dish for them to make.

_Ok. I'll send ingredient list later._

His phone buzzed a minute later.

_cool. just let me know by weds. so i can go to store. ttyl_

Lovino tucked his phone back in his pocket and started thinking of recipes for the two of them. This _fixing things_ plan was difficult. So, maybe a nap first, and then down to business.

A few days later, Lovino rang the doorbell to Alfred's house, clutching a plant in one arm and a bag in the other. It was annoying to have to go out of the city to Alfred's place, although Lovino liked the little house Alfred and his brother lived in, especially the fact they had room for a garden in the back, instead of having to make due with a couple of small windowsills, like Lovino and Feliciano did.

Lovino shifted the plant on his hip as Alfred opened the door.

"Hi, Lovino! Uh, what's that?" Alfred's hands automatically went to take the plant as Lovino shoved it at him while walking through the door.

"For you," Lovino muttered as he set his bag down and took off his coat.

"Ok. Um, what for?" Alfred was holding the plant in front of him, looking at it curiously.

"It's rosemary. You don't have very many herbs, and rosemary is used in a lot of dishes." Lovino hung up his jacket on his own. He couldn't quite bring himself to look at Alfred, hoping that explanation was enough.

"Oh..."

"You'll have to keep it inside in the winter, but it grows well in a container," Lovino rambled as he hurried down the hall with his bag. _Just take the plant, idiot!_

"Ok, but why?" Alfred followed him down the hall into the kitchen.

Lovino struggled for the right words as he set up the kitchen, arranging the ingredients for the night's recipe on the counter. Behind him he heard Alfred come into the kitchen and set the pot on the table.

"I-it's an excellent herb to have for your kitchen," Lovino tried to explain, faltering. "You can use it for a lot of things..." he trailed off, staring down at the package of mozzarella on the counter. The mozzarella was oblivious to his intent look. "It's good to have, okay!" Lovino snapped, shoulders hunching defensively.

There was a long pause as Alfred digested this. "Uh, sure. Well," Alfred said as he came up beside Lovino, "Um, thanks, Lovino."

Lovino reluctantly looked over. Alfred had his head tilted to the side with a puzzled smile on his face.

"_Certo_," Lovino mumbled back, and Alfred's smile grew into a genuine look of happiness. He clapped a hand on Lovino's shoulder – _ow_ – and asked, "What's on the menu today, buddy?"

Lovino felt his reflexive scowl return, although his face felt warm_. _"Start a pot of water to boil, _sciocco_, and don't forget to salt it!"

Alfred just laughed at him as he went to the cupboard.

"We're making baked ziti," Lovino informed Alfred as he started chopping up the uncooperative mozzarella, moist and fresh underneath his hand.

"That's the funny kind of pasta?" Alfred was referring to the tubes of dried pasta that were on the grocery list Lovino had sent him.

"_Sì_," Lovino agreed. "It's a very simple dish – start grating the Parmigiano-Reggiano, half a cup – but the marinara sauce takes a while to make, so I brought it with me." The bowl was in Lovino's bag.

"You already made it? But why can't you show me how to?" Alfred turned toward him, seeming offended. "Is it because I'm not Italian? Is it like a family secret, I'll have to marry into the family just to get?"

Lovino choked. "No!" Actually, there were a few secret recipes Lovino would probably never teach anyone, just for that reason, and maybe not even then. "I just said, it takes a while to make! _Dannazione_, we don't have all night! And," he added vehemently, "your tomatoes aren't ripe yet, I went and bought good ones, _va bene_? You have to have good tomatoes to make good sauce."

"Well, how long does it take?" Alfred demanded.

"At least half an hour!"

"That's not so long. Do you have something else to do?" Alfred frowned in thought. "Or like...a date or something?"

"Jesus Christ!" Lovino pinched the bridge of his nose. What went through this idiot's head? "I just don't want to be here." Lovino registered what he had just said when Alfred's face went from curious to kicked-puppy in an instant. "I mean, _merda_, I don't want to take up all your time! You're the one with a job, remember?"

"Oh." the hurt on Alfred's face cleared instantly. "It's fine, I take these nights off since I don't know how long we'll need. I can always go in and work on the weekends if I'm really busy, so don't worry about it."

Lovino felt an odd twinge of discomfort for not actually knowing what Alfred did. "Add the pasta when the water boils," he said awkwardly to Alfred.

"I know," Alfred said with a little smile. "So next time, you'll teach me how to make marinara sauce from scratch?" He pressed.

"_Sì, sì."_ Lovino agreed. He finished with the mozzarella and went to pull out a baking dish for when the pasta was done boiling and turned the oven on to pre-heat in the process. Alfred finished grating the other cheese and added the pasta to the boiling water.

"We wait," Lovino forestalled Alfred's next question. "Then we'll add the ingredients together and bake it."

Alfred nodded and leaned against the counter. He drummed his fingers and looked like he was about to ask a question, then thought better of it. _Probably remembering last time. _So Lovino folded his arms across his chest and said, "What is it you do for work?"

Alfred looked happy to talk about it. "I'm a videographer for one of the news channels! Sometimes I go out on location and shoot extra footage, but mostly I make commercials."

"What do you like better?"

"The commercials, definitely. When the customers let me have creative control, it's fun! Haven't you seen the car commercials I've done?"

Lovino shook his head.

"It's awesome! They let me do whatever I want, so each time I do a different theme – this one time I was a cowboy, another time, an astronaut..."

"To sell cars?" Lovino asked, taken aback.

"Yeah! They're like mini movies – "

"How do you sell cars in space?" Lovino wanted to know.

"Dude, you don't even _know_. I can't believe you haven't seen them! You've gotta see them, Lovino. Wait here – " Alfred dashed out of the room. Lovino shook his head. _An astronaut selling cars in space? Were they space cars?_

Alfred returned a moment later with a laptop. "Just a sec, I'll bring them up." He sat down at the table and opened the laptop up.

Lovino thought about reminding him about the pasta, but he was curious to see the videos, so he went over to the stove and checked them himself. They were nearly done, so Lovino said strongly, "Finish the cooking first, and _then_ we can watch the videos."

Alfred huffed a sigh. "Okay, fine! Just let me pull them up so they can load while we cook. Jeez, you sound just like Mattie." The last part was muttered under his breath. He hopped up a moment later and came to the stove. Lovino moved out of the way to let him take the pasta to the sink and drain it.

"Pasta goes in the baking dish," Lovino directed. Alfred tipped the drained pasta into the glass dish. "Then add half of the marinara sauce, half the mozzarella and Parmigiano-Reggiano and toss until it's all combined."

Alfred dutifully added all the ingredients and mixed them together.

"And then put the rest of the sauce on top, and layer with the remaining cheese. And then we bake for 15 to 20 minutes."

Alfred followed Lovino's instructions and then slid the dish into the oven. He started the timer on the stove and then asked, "Good?"

"_Bene_," Lovino confirmed.

"Videos!" Alfred grinned. He was as excitable as a little kid. Lovino followed him to the table and stood behind him.

"See, check this out. This is the best one so far." For 30 seconds Lovino watched Alfred dressed as a cowboy – _really, they let Alfred star in these?_ – riding across what looked like a prairie, a parking lot, a suburban lawn, and finally, the car lot of the dealership. There was some grand music in the background and an austere voice-over that Lovino didn't pay attention to.

"This sells cars?" Lovino asked, a note of amazement in his voice. Admittedly, Alfred looked incredibly dashing in his cowboy get-up, the sun reflecting off his glasses, his hair, his dazzling-white smile, but they only showed cars in the last 5 seconds! What did cowboys have to do with cars anyways?

"Yep!" Alfred said with pride. "These are really popular, look at the number of hits!" There were a lot of hits, and comments with multiple exclamation points. "And people even recognize me on the street sometimes! How cool is that? Check out _this_ one. I made it for the Fourth of July sale."

They watched a heroic Alfred dressed in a quasi-historical blue uniform marching down the street with a musket – _March Towards Savings!_ – as a flag waved gallantly in the background. Fireworks exploded at the end, with Alfred looking nobly into the distance.

They were very much like short movies, and they were also a little comical. Scratch that, they were stupidly absurd. Lovino started to laugh. He tried to cover it up with his hand, but as he watched the next video – Alfred in as an astronaut in space, stars mirrored in his helmet, _The Best Deals in the Universe!_ flashing in neon behind him – it was too much.

"What?" Alfred turned around in his chair, confused but still smiling. Lovino clapped both hands over his mouth, body shaking in mirth.

"Oh, man. It's not that bad, is it?" Alfred asked, but he was starting to laugh too.

Lovino shook his head. "You!" he gasped. "Are ridiculous."

"Aww, come on! They're great."

Lovino shook his head, still laughing. _Greatly amusing_ was the best he would admit too.

"Come on, admit it, they're awesome!" Alfred poked him, teasing. "Admit itttt, they're amazing."

"Oh, _sì_, when the fireworks went off – so patriotic!" Lovino snorted and poked Alfred back in the shoulder.

Alfred laughed with him. "Alright, maybe they are a little ridiculous, but people love them. Well, I suppose I forgive you for laughing at me. This time," He jokingly threatened.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Or what, you'll get your bayonet out? _Basta_," he fake pleaded, throwing up his hands.

"Hey, that was _authentic_!"

"_Sì_, _sì_, I'm sure." The rosemary plant sitting next to them caught Lovino's eye. "We should take that outside," Lovino gestured at the plant. "We've still got a few minutes before the ziti is done."

"Oh, right." Alfred got up and picked up the plant and carried it outside, Lovino following.

"By a wall is best," Lovino told him. "The one with the most sun."

"Okay, I think this spot should be good, then," Alfred said, heading towards the corner of the house and fence. Lovino helped Alfred move around a couple of other plant containers to make room for the new one.

"That's good," he said, crouching down to adjust the pot to make it sit just so. "Here, smell it." Lovino held one of the sprigs in his fingers, dragging it through his fingertips to release its scent. He held his fingers up to his nose and sniffed appreciatively. "Try," he said to Alfred, who crouched down next to him, one knee pressing into his. Alfred blinked at him, then slid his fingers around Lovino's wrist and brought them to his nose. He inhaled deeply, then said appreciatively, "Yeah! That does smell really good."

Lovino was used to Alfred's touches – he was the touchy-feely guy, always jumping into Lovino's space, knocking into him, accidentally rough but never harmful. But _this_ – Alfred's hand was careful, and his fingers resting gently against Lovino's wrist where his pulse hummed under thin skin. He had such a wonderful little smile on his face, simply content to enjoy the moment, a look that Lovino suddenly understood that _he_ had put there. Lovino felt the pit of his belly do a little jump, and this time he didn't think it was from hunger.

"Ah," Lovino started to say, and Alfred's brows drew up in question.

"Huh?" Alfred asked, his broad shoulder brushing into Lovino's, and he was still holding onto Lovino, not realizing what he was doing. He was much too close – Lovino stood up abruptly, and Alfred's hand slid away.

"I – I think the ziti's ready," Lovino blurted out, and ran inside.

Alfred trailed in behind him, the timer going off just as he shut the door. Lovino automatically went to get dishes to set the table and left Alfred to serve the baked ziti. His mind was running on overtime, stuck on the feeling of Alfred's hand against his skin, lingering like a ghost. _Stop it, dannazione. Nothing's going on._

"Wow, smells awesome," Alfred said, sliding the hot glass dish onto the table. They settled into the table and Lovino said his quick prayer, crossing himself fervently, although all he could think was to pray was _per favore, Dio, per favore._ He couldn't stop cataloging all the little touches and contacts that had passed between them, and it was just _stupid_, and made Lovino anxious.

They started into the meal, Alfred humming his appreciation. Even though he knew it was good, the baked ziti sat heavily in his stomach, and that was when Lovino really started to worry.

"Hey," Alfred said, alarmed.

"_Sì_?" Lovino looked up from his plate.

"No wine?"

"What?" Lovino sat up. He looked around for where it should have been but wasn't. "I – I guess, I forgot." Lovino realized that he had forgotten about wine, thinking more about transporting a rosemary plant in some odd attempt of – of something, of fixing Alfred's hurt look, of asking forgiveness, not that Lovino _needed_ forgiveness but just in case Alfred thought otherwise – then he had planning the rest of the meal.

_Oh no_, Lovino thought. _No. No. Just, eat your ziti, don't even think about anything. No._ But Lovino struggled to taste the delicious combination of rich tomato sauce and melted cheese with pasta. Alfred was rambling on about something but Lovino could barely even register that over the twisting in his stomach.

Something brushed against his shoulder and Lovino jerked back. Alfred was staring at him.

"What?"

"Is everything okay in there?" Alfred tapped his own head to show what he was referring to.

_God, not anymore_, Lovino thought. "Fine!" he snapped out loud.

Alfred shrugged and went back to eating. "It's just you look funny, and I don't even mean that in a bad way, haha!"

Lovino sighed, frustrated. He couldn't deal with his – _don't think feelings, don't think feelings _– feelings while Alfred was his usual chatty and happy self next to him.

"I'm just tired," he muttered some excuse.

Alfred looked at him with concern. "If you want a ride home, Mattie should be back sometime soon. I can call him and –"

"No, no, I'm fine. Really." And now he was lying, and Alfred was concerned, and he felt bad, and he just needed to get out of here. Lovino waved off Alfred's concern and ate as quickly as he could, as much as it hurt him to treat a perfectly good pasta dish like that.

Alfred insisted on walking him to the door, like he always did, even though Lovino rushed out of there without helping clean up, half-hoping Alfred would stay to do just that.

"Hey," Alfred caught him by the shoulder as he tried to bolt out the door, "thanks again for the plant. You didn't have to do that!"

"I know," Lovino snapped, then blushed as he realized just what he had said. Alfred didn't seem to notice, just waved goodbye and shut the door.

The bus ride home wasn't much fun for Lovino, either.

* * *

><p><em>Notes &amp; translations:<em>

bene = good

va bene = okay

sì = yes

sciocco = stupid

dannazione = dammit

certo = of course

basta = enough

merda = crap

per favore = please

Dio = God

*In case anyone thinks otherwise, I do like Antonio! I'm just writing from Lovino's point of view, and he's just telling one side of the story. This chapter was so much more fun to write than the last one. Oh, Lovino, you're so screwed. :3 And next chapter: fluff! (I think. Not sure if I can write fluff, but I'm going to try!)

*Thanks for all the comments! Y'all are awesome. And yes, these are real recipes. For the most part I found them through the google machine.

*Rosemary is one of the most useful culinary herbs and goes well with a ton of things (including tomato sauces). I spent way too much time thinking of herbs with old folk tales and anecdotes attached to them (lovage, anyone?), but in the end Lovino just gave a very practical, useful culinary herb.

*Ziti is yet another kind of pasta, kind of like penne but smooth with square edges.

*Parmigiano-Reggiano is a kind of cheese produced in the Emilia-Romagna and Lombardy regions. It's protected under Italian law so only cheese made from those places can be called by that name. It's informally known as the 'king of cheese.' Did you know the top 3 consumers of cheese are Germany, Finland, and Iceland? The things I learn researching for this fic!


	6. Intermezzo: eggplant and ricotta lasagne

Fandom: Hetalia

Rating: M

Pairing: Alfred/Lovino, mention of Antonio/Lovino and Alfred/Arthur

Summary: _Lovino stared at him, eyes wide, a blush starting to rise – and then Alfred grinned, his normal huge dumb smile, and took a big bite of bruschetta._ Alfred wants to learn to cook, and Lovino teaches him. They both learn a little more along the way. AU, human names used.

*Just a little conversation between brothers. Plus, I wanted to try and write from Alfred's POV. Enjoy!

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><p><em>pomme d'amour: Intermezzo<em>

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><p>Alfred had given up ever knowing when Matthew would be home from school, and put the rest of dinner in a container and into the refrigerator as soon as he finished eating.<p>

It had turned out pretty good, though not as good as when Lovino helped. He was definitely a better cook than he had been a few weeks ago, that's for sure. True, it had cost him a lot more than expected, but at least the money went to good dishes and kitchen utensils that would last for more than a year. Surprisingly, less of it went to ingredients than Alfred would've thought. The recipes Lovino taught him pretty much used vegetables and the few herbs they had from his and Mattie's garden, and pasta was cheap. Heck, Alfred probably spent more money on cheese and wine than anything else. _Wow, that makes me sound French. Ooh, better not tell Lovino that. _Alfred smiled at the mental image of Lovino turning red at the offense.

A couple hours later Alfred heard the front door creak open, and paused his game in the middle of play to turn around and see Matthew walk into the living room.

"Mattie! Want something to eat?" Alfred had been asking his brother that question a lot lately, but so far he was the only willing vict – uh, participant in sampling Alfred's dishes.

"Hi, Alfred. Sure," Matt said as he set down his bookbag. "What'd you make this time?"

"Lasagne!" Alfred said as he leapt up and went into the kitchen. He pulled the cold meal out of the fridge and dished up a plateful for his brother, sticking it in the microwave to warm.

"So how are the lessons?" Matthew asked as he sat down at the table.

"Good," Alfred answered, grabbing a fork for Matthew to use out of the drawer. "I can make about seven dishes now!" He said with just a tiny bit of pride, and Matthew smiled at him.

"That's great, Alfred."

Alfred set the warmed plate of lasagne in front of his brother, then slung himself into the chair next to him.

"Yeah, it's pretty awesome. I think I'm getting better, whattya think? How does it taste?"

Matthew took a bite and chewed thoroughly and thoughtfully before frowning, looking back down at his plate.

Alfred leaned forward, eyes intent on his brother's face. "What is it? Is it ok? Does it taste bad? I knew I should have let the eggplant drain longer. Oh man!" He slumped down in his chair, frowning as he thought back through the steps for preparing the eggplant and ricotta lasagne.

"No, no! It's not that. It's fine, Al."

"Really?" Alfred perked up back. "So why...?"

Matthew smiled and cut another forkful of lasagne. "Well, I'm surprised. I thought you didn't even know what an eggplant was."

"Hey! I eat vegetables, you know."

"Vegetables, eh? You mean lettuce, tomatoes, onions, whatever comes on a burger."

"Shut up. I eat more stuff now, you know."

"Mmhm," Matthew agreed with him, mouth full of food. Alfred missed his brother's considering look, too busy making a mental list of all the vegetables he could remember eating recently.

"Speaking of which, how's Lovino?" Matthew asked.

"He's great!" Alfred said confidently, although Matthew raised one eyebrow at that.

"Yeah?"

"I figure he'd stop coming if he wasn't," Alfred said. "He's pretty, uh, honest like that." Sometimes a little too honest, Alfred could admit, if all the Italian cursewords were something to go by. But fortunately Alfred had thick skin! And it was just too funny to see Lovino blush, even if the aftermath meant the possibility of bodily injury.

"And he gave me a plant," Alfred continued, resting his chin on his hand.

"A plant?"

"Yeah, rosemary. From his apartment. We put it outside." Alfred half turned in his chair and pointed vaguely to their garden in the back. "Isn't that cool? We don't have that kind, either."

"Oh," Matthew said.

"Yeah, we'll have to move it inside when it's winter, though. But that way we can use it year round."

"Sure," Matthew said, as he studied his slightly oblivious brother.

"What?" Alfred said, noticing Matthew's stare.

"Nothing," Matt said, his lips quirking up into an odd little smile. Alfred was immediately suspicious.

"Really, nothing." Matthew continued when Alfred narrowed his eyes at him. He coughed. "I was just thinking that Lovino doesn't really seem like the gift-giving type." He shrugged a little and went back to eating.

Alfred tried to think about Lovino handing out gifts with a smile on his face, like Santa Claus. He'd be more terrifying than those department store Santas who smelled like spoiled milk and cigarette smoke and wouldn't let Alfred leave once he was sitting on their lap. That had been the last time Alfred had gone to get his picture taken with Santa. (Okay, so that had just been last year, but whatever, that whole incident was Gilbert's fault.)

Alfred shrugged when he realized Matthew was still looking at him again. "Yeah, I guess so," he said, starting to feel slightly uncomfortable at Matthew's gaze. "I mean, whatever, it was nice of him."

Matthew's forked clinked against his plate as he cleaned up the rest of his food. "Yes, it was," he agreed.

Alfred lowered his head into his arms, silent for a second as Matthew finished his food. It _was_ nice of Lovino, kind of odd, though. Although Lovino seemed like kind of an odd guy anyways, slightly prickly and prone to random outbursts of emotion. But still, he'd brought Alfred a plant. Nothing wrong with that, a man can give another man a plant. Right? _Uh oh, Al, what are you doing? _"So, um..." he cleared his throat.

Matthew looked at him, raising one pale blond eyebrow.

Alfred paused. "So is that a keeper?" He nodded at Matt's clean plate.

Eyes narrowing slightly, Matthew looked at him.

"No?" Alfred ventured, fidgeting his hands.

His brother sighed. "I suppose so."

"Well, good!" Alfred grinned and jumped up from the table. "Do you want to play a level with me?" He asked hopefully, although he felt fairly certain of the answer.

"I have to study, Al, you know that."

"Yeah," Alfred sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"But I might reconsider if you clean up your mess in the kitchen."

Alfred turned around to see Matt standing at the sink, looking annoyed. "Oh, fine," he grunted, coming back to the counter. "I'll dry!" That was always less work than washing. Matt rolled his eyes but turned on the faucet to fill up the sink. Alfred pulled out a clean dishtowel to dry with as his brother started scrubbing.

After a few moments of easy silence Matthew said nonchalantly, "So, Antonio and Lovino broke up, eh?"

"Huh? Yeah. How'd you know that?" Alfred asked.

"Who told you?"

"Lovino did. Why? Who told you?"

"Francis."

"Oh." Well, Francis was more Matthew's friend than Alfred's, and come to think of it, was also pretty good friends with Antonio.

"They broke up a few months ago."

"O-okay..." Matthew apparently knew a lot about this. "Um, what does this have to do with anything?"

Matt sighed again. Alfred finished drying the last plate as Matthew pulled the plug to let the water drain out.

"I changed my mind, I have to go study." Matthew reached around Alfred to dry his hands.

"Hey, but you said you'd play!" Alfred followed Matthew into the living room as the other blond picked up his bookbag. "You afraid I'm gonna kick your ass?" He challenged, grinning.

Matthew's back was turned, but Alfred could sense the eyeroll. "_Study_."

"How about, if you can beat me – "

"_Alfred_."

"I won't interrupt you for the rest of the night!"

Matthew heaved another sigh. "Isn't there anyone else you can annoy?"

"But I'd rather spend time with my favorite bro!"

"I'm your only brother, thank _Dieu,_" Matthew muttered. Adjusting his bookbag on his shoulder, he said, "Why don't you call Lovino? See if he wants to play?"

Alfred paused. "Lovino? I seriously doubt that...Well, maybe, I guess I've never asked him." He scratched his head in thought. "I don't think he'd be interested in video games, though. I mean..."

Matthew turned back around and started heading towards his room. "Call him about the cooking lessons, then."

"Well..."

"Don't you have to plan out the next meal?" Matthew said, one hand on the doorknob to his room.

"Well, yeah, I guess so." They were supposed to meet this week, actually. _I do need to buy the ingredients for whatever we're cooking.._

The door to Matthew's room clicked firmly shut, interrupting his thoughts.

"Hey!" Alfred frowned at the door. "Jerk," he muttered, then shook his head, not really meaning that.

"Fine, I guess I'll call." He took out his phone and studied it. "Or text." He pushed the buttons of his phone, typing out a message. His thumb hovered over the _send_ button. _Maybe he would want to play video games? _Alfred felt fairly certain the answer would be a _hell no_, or whatever that was in Italian, but maybe there was something else Lovino would want to do? _Of course!_ Alfred grinned at his own genius. There wasn't anyone he knew that didn't like to watch movies.

* * *

><p><em>Notes &amp; translations:<em>

*Sorry for the super delay. I'm glad to be back now! Only 4 more chapters left. (Well, maybe 5.) Woo-hoo! The rest will be from Lovino's POV, I just wanted to write a little from Alfred's perspective. (And get some Alfred-Matthew brother interaction. They're a lot harder to write than Feliciano-Lovino, I've discovered.) And there will be some cuddling next chapter! _Finally,_ I can hear you all say. :)

*Err, hopefully this has been implied, but Lovino and Alfred have met for cooking lessons more times than the chapters I've written.

*Thank y'all for the reviews! Um, is it proper etiquette to respond to each individually? (I should have asked this question 4 chapters ago!) I don't want to be rude, and I really appreciate each of y'alls thoughts and comments.

*RawrziesDeLoli, thanks for the info on marinara sauce! You're right, I should have labeled it tomato sauce or something like that.


	7. Chapter 6: halibut  tomato sauce

*crawls out from under rock* If anybody's still reading this, hello again! :'D *offers up new chapter, disappears back under rock*

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><p>Fandom: Hetalia<p>

Rating: M

Pairing: Alfred/Lovino, mention of past Antonio/Lovino and Alfred/Arthur

Summary: _Lovino stared at him, eyes wide, a blush starting to rise – and then Alfred grinned, his normal huge dumb smile, and took a big bite of bruschetta._ Alfred wants to learn to cook, and Lovino teaches him. They both learn a little more along the way. AU, human names used.

* * *

><p><em>pomme d'amour<em>

* * *

><p>Alfred was nowhere in sight, and Lovino was getting pissed off. Not only had the bastard called him up out of the blue to tell him tonight was the cooking lesson night – without asking Lovino if he had plans, he could have plans, you know! – but now he was late. <em>Late<em>. Lovino crossed his arms across his chest and glared down the road. Five more minutes, that's all he would give the guy, then he was going back up to his apartment. He had important things to do. Like look for a job. Or take a nap.

Lovino huffed and uncrossed his arms, shaking his light jacket a little to get the air circulating around him. It was only early summer but it was already getting hot. The sun was just starting to descend towards the horizon, but the heat had built up around the cement buildings and it was making Lovino sweat a little. It was almost 6 and Alfred had said he'd arrive to pick up Lovino at 5:30. "Bastard," Lovino growled. A tall man walking by him turned and gave him a look from underneath his hooded jacket. _Not you! _Lovino hunched his shoulders and looked away, waiting until he heard the scruff of shoes moving away to look back up. _Dammit_, _it was the bastard's fault for being late. I don't care how cute he is, I'm going to kill him!_

Lovino flushed automatically as he realized what he had just thought. _He's not that...I don't mean, he's not..._ Even his mind was having trouble deciding what he meant. "Dammit, Alfred!" Lovino swore.

On cue a van slowed down in front of him, a news station logo prominently displayed on its side. Lovino peered through the glass to see Alfred waving at him.

Alright, fine. Just act normal. Lovino adjusted his jacket, straightening up, then stalked across the sidewalk and to the van. Opening up the passenger door, he slid inside.

"Hey man!" Alfred flashed a big smile at him. He was dressed up more than usual, probably for work, in a dark blue button-up shirt that was undone at the top two buttons. With his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he looked far from professional. In fact he looked good. _Really good._ He had exchanged his glasses for aviators, and while Lovino usually thought those made people look stupid and like they were trying too hard to be cool, these just looked perfectly natural on Alfred.

"Lovino?"

"What?" he snapped defensively, hoping Alfred hadn't seen him staring.

"You okay? Your face looks kind of red."

"It – It's hot out!" Lovino sputtered. "And you're late! _Sciocco_," Lovino added for emphasis.

"Oh yeah, sorry about that! My boss made me stay late to finish something up. Everything has to be perfect, you know? Fortunately he's pretty cool. Good ol'Ed, hard to believe he's younger than me, actually, and a producer to boot. He's really supportive of my ideas, though, which is super cool...yeah. Right. So, what's up?"

Lovino stared at him. Maybe it was fortunate the other man was so clueless.

"Right! Let's get going. Ready?" Without waiting for an answer, Alfred stepped on the gas and they took off with a jerk. Lovino hastily pulled on his seatbelt.

"Slow – slow down!" Lovino bit back an unmanly yelp as they took a sharp corner.

"Calm down, dude!" Alfred said cheerily. "Jeez, you sound just like Mattie. I've never been in an accident, you know."

"That doesn't matter – we're in the middle of a city!" With people jumping the curb all the time and other cars pulling in and out of the street, it didn't matter if you were a good driver, everyone else as an idiot. Lovino knew, he had driven through Rome – worse, _Naples_.

"I hope you don't mind that, actually."

"What?" Lovino gripped the door handle tightly as they went through a yellow light.

"That Mattie will be here tonight. He's got a break for some reason – must have just finished a test or something. Anyways, he'll be eating with us!"

"Whyyyy –" Lovino's voice jumped as they rattled over a particularly rough spot in the road. " – would I mind?"

"Well, you know, it's usually just us...and..."

Huh? "_And_?" Lovino was puzzled.

"Uh, I don' t know. Anyways, how was your day?" Alfred grinned at him, adjusting his sunglasses.

"_Watch the road!_ Er, fine," Lovino finished lamely.

"I am watching the road," Alfred said, even as he turned to give Lovino a look.

Lovino gave him an incredulous stare.

"Okay, I am now," Alfred turned back to the road pointedly. He tapped his fingers along the steering wheel and hummed some random tune while Lovino tried not to think about how fast they were going. "Hey, how about some music?"

_Sure, it'll cover the screaming_, Lovino thought. Alfred was reaching for the radio when Lovino realized he had a hand off the wheel.

"I'll get it!" he snapped, slapping Alfred's hand away.

"Ok. Dude, 96.7 is the best! Turn it to that station."

Lovino ignored him and switched it to a station he liked.

"This one's okay too, I guess."

Lovino sat back in his chair and resumed his death grip on the armrests, quickly, as they took a hard corner. He wondered why they were in the van, although he hesitated to ask just in case he was distracting Alfred. _And distractions seem like a bad idea right now._ One glance at the speedometer was all the confirmation he needed. Lovino closed his eyes and started reciting prayers. At least he wouldn't see the end coming, if that was the case.

"Dude, wake up, we're here!"

Lovino cautiously opened one eye to see that they were, in fact, in the driveway of Alfred's house, parked behind Alfred and his brother's car. Alfred's hand was shaking his shoulder and Lovino quickly moved it away.

"I wasn't sleeping, I was _praying_," Lovino snapped, ignoring just how _warm_ Alfred's hand had felt on his shoulder_. _He climbed out of the passenger seat, and waited for Alfred to get out of the car, which he did after picking up a few plastic bags from the backseat, and followed him inside the house.

"We're hoooome!" Alfred called out. He shucked off his shoes and bound into the kitchen as his brother called back a hello. Lovino followed a minute later, being more careful to take off his shoes and hang up his jacket.

Alfred's brother was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book. He looked up when Lovino came in and smiled. "Hey, Lovino, how are you?" he greeted him.

"Oh, er, hi," Lovino blanked for a second on his name, before Alfred rescued him.

"Jeez, Mattie, can't you take a break for a second?" Alfred joked as he sat the bags down at the counter.

"I'm fine – Matt. You?" Lovino finished, trying not to look guilty for not remembering the guy's name. He looked a lot like Alfred, so it was kind of strange that Lovino couldn't remember his name. _Not as cute_, Lovino thought. _Maybe a different kind of cuteness would be a better way of – _Wait, what the hell was he thinking?

"Good, thanks," Matt said, closing the book in front of him. "Well, I'll do as my brother says – for once," he added, and got up from the table. "I'll be in the living room."

"Okey dokey!" Alfred said cheerfully, not bothering to turn around as he pulled food from the grocery bags. Matt looked from Alfred to Lovino and then he gave Lovino a small smile before he left the room. Lovino felt his face flushing, although he absolutely had no reason to be blushing. It wasn't like anyone could read his stupid thoughts.

"Alrighty, so what are making today?"

Lovino's agitation dissolved as he was distracted by something much more important – cooking.

"What do you think we're making, _sciocco_?" Lovino came to stand next to the taller blond and together they surveyed the food products on the counter. Lovino frowned at the pile of dishes in the sink, and the not-so-attractive state of the counter.

"Um, tomatoes...and fish?" Alfred said as he looked at the things in front of them – which was tomatoes and fish.

"Sì, halibut and tomato sauce. Was that so hard? Now go get a knife and cutting board."

"Yessir!" Alfred grinned and sketched a salute.

Lovino snorted and pulled out a frying pan and added a little olive oil to the pan to warm up. When Alfred had the cutting board out, he instructed, "_Bene._ Chop up the carrot, onion, a garlic clove, and celery. And parsley." Alfred started chopping as Lovino watched. He was a so much faster than he had been weeks ago, and Lovino felt a little – odd. _He's really pretty good, for an American_.

"Is this the tomato sauce you were supposed to teach me?" Alfred asked, abruptly shaking Lovino from his thoughts.

"Ah – not _exactly_," Lovino muttered. Alfred made a disappointed sound. "But, it's a good, simple tomato sauce to start with," he added hurriedly. Why he had to explain himself, he didn't actually know.

"So it's _a_ tomato sauce, not_ the_ tomato sauce."

"There's no _the_ tomato sauce!" Lovino said, exasperated. Alfred paused in his cutting to give him a narrow-eyed look.

"Really?" he said, skeptically.

"R-really." Lovino went pink under that blue-eyed stare.

"Hey –" Alfred pointed the celery at Lovino. "I don't believe you! You're hiding something!"

If his face was pink before, it was now on fire. Lovino crossed his arms defensively. "No!" _Not for the reason you think, sciocco! _"There's no – no secret! No secret r-recipe, okay? Feliciano knows the tomato sauce recipe, so do all Italians!"

"So..." Alfred's brows knit in puzzlement. "Why aren't you teaching me?"

"Because – because I haven't picked out a good recipe for you yet! T-to learn, I mean." Lovino closed his mouth with a snap. Damn stuttering, it made him sound like a child.

"Oh." Alfred raised the celery stalk to scratch at his chin.

"Stop that!" Lovino jumped forward to knock his hand away. _Getting the food all dirty, the fool_.

Alfred blinked and looked sheepish. "Sorry, wasn't thinking." He went to lay down the celery and looked at Lovino's hand, still lingering on his arm, curiously.

Then it was Lovino mumbling, "Sorry," as he pulled his hand back. _Stupid, get a hold of yourself!_ He cursed himself. He wasn't some love-struck teenager, for _Dio's_ sake. Not _in love. _No no no,_ not at all. _"Hurry up, the pan's ready!" He snapped, stepping back.

Alfred obliged and finished chopping duty. He added everything that had just been chopped into the ready, warmed pan. Lovino looked for a spatuala.

"Where's a spatula?" He asked shortly.

"Uh, if it's not in the drawer, than...the sink?"

Lovino scowled and fished the spatula out, quickly cleaning it so he could start stirring.

"How long?" Alfred came over to hover over his shoulder, watching.

"Ten minutes," Lovino said. "You can start chopping up the tomatoes. Also, the fish needs to be cut into three sections." Alfred wandered away to start on Lovino's instructions. Lovino concentrated on watching the pan for a minute and then snuck a look over in Alfred's direction.

Alfred was leaning his hip against the counter, hands neatly arranging the roma tomatoes on the cutting board. He did look really good in dark blue, Lovino thought distractedly. How he had managed to pick out that color, Lovino was curious. Alfred didn't have much of a head for fashion, although frankly he looked damn good wearing almost anything. _Someone must have picked it out for him_. Lovino hoped it was his brother, and not some certain _Englishman_.

"What kind of fish is this?" Alfred asked, chopping away at the tomatoes.

"Fish?" Lovino repeated, not really hearing the question.

"Yeah, um...pesca?" Alfred stopped cutting to look over his shoulder at Lovino.

"No, pesce."

"Pesce." Alfred repeated, copying Lovino's pronunciation. "Pesce, pesce," he muttered under his breath. His accent wasn't bad, Lovino thought. Then Alfred smiled at him, and said, "So...?"

"So?"

"What kind of pesce is it?"

"What? Oh!" Lovino realized belated he was too slow – _for once_ – in comparison to Alfred. Alfred, who was grinning at him, blue eyes sparkling.

"Halibut." Lovino quickly turned back around so he wouldn't have to see Alfred's smile. _Stupid_, _pay attention to what you're cooking_. He had said a million times to Antonio, and now he was the one making the same mistake.

Lovino scraped the vegetables on the frying pan more vigorously. Why was he even thinking of Antonio right now, the idiot had nothing to do with Alfred. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

"Tomatoes are done!"

"Okay, put them into the pan, here," Lovino said and moved aside for Alfred to slide the chopped tomatoes off the cutting block and into the frying pan.

"We need a lid to cover, so it can simmer," Lovino added as he stirred all the ingredients together.

"M'kay, hold on a sec, I think we got one down here – nope, wrong size – ah, here!" He held up a lid to Lovino and Lovino took it and placed it over the pan, lowering the heat.

"So, how long?" Alfred asked.

"About 10 minutes, until it's slightly thickened. Cut up the fish," Lovino said with a jerk of his head.

"Aye-aye, cap'tain," Alfred intoned, "one chopped _pesce_ coming up!"

"Into three or four large chunks!" Lovino added insistently. He stood to the side and watched Alfred handle the knife with ease.

"You've done this before?" Lovino muttered.

"Well, I'm kind of a master when it comes to meat," Alfred said, and he gave Lovino a huge grin.

Lovino blinked and then blushed. Was Alfred suggesting what he thought he was suggesting?

"Matt and I used to go fishing and camping all the time when we were kids," Alfred continued cheerfully.

"Oh."

"And, you know, of course my favorite is hamburgers."

"Che –" Lovino made a sound that was suspiciously close to disgust.

Alfred chuckled. "Actually, that's not true. Cheeseburgers might be my favorite. Guess it depends on my mood – you know, sometimes you just want them plain – "

Lovino rolled his eyes and turned away, cleaning up the counter a bit as he tuned Alfred out. As far as Lovino was concerned, hamburgers would never be on his menu.

"Okay, throw the _pesce_ in the pan with the rest," Lovino told him a few minutes later, interrupting his ramble. Alfred did as he was told, and then asked the inevitable.

"How long?"

"About 20 minutes," Lovino informed him.

"Oh."

"_Sí."_

"Huh." Alfred looked around the room. "So...we should – "

"Clean."

"Wha?"

"This place is a mess. You clean," Lovino pointed at the sink for emphasis.

"Hey, but don't you make a mess when you're– "

"It's one thing to make a mess _when_ you're cooking, but another to cook in a dirty kitchen." Lovino stated calmly and simply. He was a lot less messy than most of the cooks he knew, anyways, and it could drive him to the point of madness if the kitchen was completely filthy. Yet another thing him and Antonio had fought over, but that was – different.

Alfred looked like he might argue for a moment, but then he shrugged and started washing dishes. Lovino went ahead and set the table at the same time, then sat down at the table.

Soon enough, Alfred was done, and together they checked on the dish.

"Looks good," Alfred said, and Lovino agreed. "I'll dish up and you get the salad!" Alfred said.

"Salad?" Oh, right – the halibut dish had been simple enough, so Lovino had informed Alfred that he should pick up a little something extra.

"It's in the fridge."

Lovino went to the refrigerator and frowned at the bag of salad that Alfred had bought – oh well, at least he had thought far enough to _get_ something – and popped it open, pouring it out into a bowl. He added a bit of olive oil and found a pair of larger-sized spoons to toss everything together, then carried it to the table.

"Oi, Matt! Time to eat!" Alfred yelled into the next room as he carried the plates to the table.

Matthew came wandering in, adjusting his glasses. "Smells great in here."

Alfred pulled several dressings out of the refrigerator. Lovino nearly said something scathing, but years of working at a restaurant had conditioned him to American's love of bottled dressing, so he kept his mouth shut.

They all sat down to eat and things were quiet for a few moments.

"This is great," Matthew said.

"Thanks!" Alfred replied. "Lovino helped a little, you know."

Lovino scowled, then realized Alfred was joking. "Idiot," he muttered, and Alfred laughed. Matthew smiled.

"You guys sure get along well, eh?"

Lovino shot him a dark look. What was he trying to say?

"Yeah, well. Of course." Alfred frowned for a brief second at his brother then cocked an eyebrow. "So, how's your _friend_ doing?"

Matthew matched Alfred's frown, looking a little pink. "About as well as _your_ friend, thank you."

Lovino tried not to seem like he was listening too hard. Were they talking about the Englishman, Alfred's former – whatever? Could it be that they were...friends...again? Lovino shoved down the jealously that threatened to rise along with shoving a big bite of fish down his throat. Meanwhile, Alfred and his brother seemed to be matched in a staring contest. It was funny to see how they interacted when arguing. There was no real arguing with Feliciano, he either ignored Lovino or even cried, sometimes. (Lovino swore it was fake crying just to manipulate him, yet he still fell for it every time.)

Alfred opened his mouth to say something when Matthew interrupted. "So, Lovino, how's Feliciano doing?" he asked pleasantly.

"Fine," Lovino said. Why did people always ask about Feli and not _him_? Lovino's life was equally as interesting!

"What's he up to, eh? Still making art?"

"Yes," Lovino said tersely, then felt compelled to add, "he's participating in a show next month."

"Really?" Alfred said at the same time Matthew said, "Wow, that's great! You'll have to let me know when it is, I'd like to go and check it out."

Lovino tried not to scowl and ducked his head back to his plate of food.

"Are you gonna go, Lovino?"

Lovino looked up to see Alfred staring at him. "_Sí_, of course," he grumbled. Even if his brother was stupid and annoying and everyone liked him better, Lovino would still go to support him.

Alfred nodded his head and looked thoughtful. Lovino stared at him, wondering what he was thinking, and then looked away when Alfred turned his gaze back to him. He bent his head back over his meal and they ate in relative silence.

"Here, I'll clean up," Alfred's brother reached for all their plates after they were finished.

"Great, thanks!" Alfred said, immediately rising up and stretching his arms behind him. Matthew just shook his head and offered a weary smile at Lovino. Lovino shrugged and muttered _thanks_.

"C'mon, Lovino!" Alfred wrapped a hand around Lovino's arm and tugged him into the next room. It was their living room, with a large screen TV against the wall and a well-worn couch in the center and a really crappy chair next to it. Next to the TV was a bookshelf with what looked like a million DVDs stacked in it.

"You don't have to be back right away, do you?" Alfred looked at him, smiling slightly.

"No," Lovino said slowly, looking at the TV and back to Alfred. "Why?"

"I thought we'd watch a movie!"

Lovino hesitated. He should say no. Hanging out with Alfred was probably a really bad idea, in his state. Maybe in a month or two, after he got over his little – don't say crush – _thing_, he could spend as much time as he wanted with the American, no problem!

"Sure," Lovino said, and immediately cursed at himself.

"Great!" Alfred said, beaming his mega-watt smile. "I was hoping you'd say so! And whenever you want to go, I've got the van and can drive you back." Alfred went over to the bookshelf and looked at the movies. "What kind of movie do you want to watch?"

Lovino shrugged. He hadn't seen many new movies recently, since, well. He'd had The Breakup. "Whatever is fine, you choose," he said, heading over to sit down on the crappy chair. It seemed safer than the couch, at least.

"Whatever _I_ want, huh? Famous last words..." Alfred was muttering to himself. "Okay, this is a good one. Oh, you probably don't want to sit there," he said, turning around and seeing Lovino on the chair.

Lovino winced as he sat down, immediately uncomfortable on the worn chair, feeling springs poking his back and lumps underneath his butt.

"That's the bad chair," Alfred said, quirking a smile at him.

"Then why the hell do you have it?" Lovino shifted in the seat, searching for a comfortable spot. Which apparently didn't exist.

"For whenever we have guests we don't want to stay!" Alfred said cheerfully, winking at him.

"Because Alfred refuses to toss it out!" Matthew called from the kitchen.

"It's a perfectly useful chair!" Alfred yelled back, sitting down on his heels to put the movie in. "We're watching a movie, wanna join?"

"No thanks, I'm going to study," Matthew said in a normal tone, in the doorway, finished with cleaning. "Have fun, though." He disappeared into his room.

"Alrighty then," Alfred said. He flicked the lights off and then settled into the couch. "Seriously, you don't have to sit there," he said, looking over at Lovino.

Lovino looked at his other options. Sit on the couch next to Alfred, or the floor? Well, the floor would look stupid. He'd just have to suck it up.

"I'm fine," he said stiffly, folding his arms and sinking back into the chair, as if the wooden slats that poked his back were extremely comfortable and not at all painful.

Alfred stared at him a moment, but Lovino kept his eyes straight ahead on the TV. Eventually Alfred shrugged and slumped back into the cushions, one arm curled around the back of the couch.

Lovino's attention was only half on the TV the whole time. It was a drama, of some sorts, with dreams and spinning tops and cool architecture that twisted into fantastical new buildings. Alfred was apparently staring in rapt attention, Lovino could see from the corner of his eye. He twisted around and tried to get comfortable in his seat and every which way he turned just made it worse. His butt was staring to fall asleep, for God's sake!

After maybe twenty minutes, Alfred spoke up. "You really don't have to sit on the that chair, you know," he said, and Lovino finally made himself look over at Alfred.

Alfred's face was half lit up by the glow of the TV screen, half in shadow. He patted the back of the couch. "I don't even sit on that chair," he said with a expression of amusement.

Lovino sighed and slumped down in the chair, and finally scowled. He got up and sat on the edge away from Alfred, who grinned at him. Alfred was sitting towards the middle of the couch, so Lovino couldn't get as far away as he liked. Plus, the idiot had an arm slung over the back of the couch so his hand rested right behind Lovino's neck. Close enough that Lovino could tilt his head back and feel Alfred's fingers brush through his hair _and stop that Lovino_! He bit his lip and tried not to curse out loud, although he very nearly did.

The couch proved to be insanely comfortable compared to the devil's chair, which Lovino privately named it. Even if Lovino himself was sitting rigidly, away from any accidental touching of Alfred.

Alfred didn't seem to notice Lovino's inner turmoil – of course not, the lucky bastard – and even shifted around once or twice so that he moved _closer_ to Lovino. Lovino was already pressed against the side of the couch, what could he do? Yell at the American to haul his ass over to the other side of the couch? Even though it was _his _couch?

This must be some sort of punishment, Lovino despaired, as Alfred stuck out a long leg at an angle and bumped the side of Lovino's foot.

"Oops, sorry," Alfred murmured, but only shuffled his foot over an inch.

"S'fine," Lovino muttered, and stared straight ahead. He didn't even _know_ what was going on in the movie anymore – if they were all dreaming, how did people end up getting hurt? Whatever. Lovino could watch it later. At this rate, he was the one who was going to end up getting hurt.

_No. Stop it, you fool_, he hissed at himself and squeezed his eyes shut. _No one is going to get hurt because no one will ever know_.

"Lovino? You okay?" Alfred's voice shocked him and Lovino jerked as Alfred's hand touched his shoulder. "Y-yes, I'm fine. I just – have a headache," he mumbled, and looked away from the concern in Alfred's eyes.

"Oh," Alfred murmured in sympathy. "Want something for it?"

"No, I. Ah, no," Lovino shrugged.

"Or I could...take you home?"

Lovino hesitated. "No, I just, ah. Maybe?" He ran a hand through his hair. Maybe it was better if he left. He didn't want to but he did. _Dio_, even his own brain was confused.

"Sure," Alfred said easily, "no problem!"

Lovino absolutely wasn't bothered by the lack of concern in Alfred's voice. Not even a little bit.

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><p><em>Notes: <em>

*Hello random characters! (That would be Turkey as the hoodie-guy, giving Lovino a look, and Eduard as Al's boss and movie-making buddy.)

*The Naples reference to bad drivers refers to someone I knew who lived in Italy and remarked that Naples and Sicily had the worse drivers. Not an actual fact, there.

*I'm not sure if I made this clear, but I'm _really_ not a cook. (Like, I eat pb&j sandwiches everyday and I consider that a pretty decent meal.) I have made a few of these recipes, but my own skill is nothing like Lovino's (or even Alfred's). So take everything I write with a grain of salt (ha, cooking joke!) and I apologize to all the wonderful chefs and cooks out there. Hopefully you can ignore those parts and focus on the America/Romano?


	8. Chapter 7: insalata caprese

I'm back! As always, thanks for taking the time to read and/or comment!

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><p>Fandom: Hetalia<p>

Rating: M

Pairing: Alfred/Lovino, mention of Antonio/Lovino and Alfred/Arthur

Summary: _Lovino stared at him, eyes wide, a blush starting to rise – and then Alfred grinned, his normal huge dumb smile, and took a big bite of bruschetta._ Alfred wants to learn to cook, and Lovino teaches him. They both learn a little more along the way. AU, human names used.

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><p><em>pomme d'amour<em>

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><p>Lovino wasn't very good with dealing with certain emotions. Anger, annoyance, frustration, a general irritableness with civilization, sure. He could handle it. The good stuff? Happiness and joy and friendship and love and shit? No thanks. He'd rather stay in his little corner of the world and let everyone else screw up, try to ignore the reckless way everyone threw around their emotions and feelings, as if quantity was enough to make up for the lack of quality.<p>

You had to be careful with romance and love and shit like that, okay? Lovino might not _like_ these feelings, but he had _respect_ for them. He just happened to not _want_ them in regards to certain people.

Certain people like Alfred. And whenever he thought of Alfred – he wanted to shove it away, the pleasure of teaching Alfred to cook, how he leaned into Lovino and _listened_, his stupid goofy smile which was so honest and sincere and completely without malice even when he was teasing Lovino, it – it should all go away. Preferably _now_. Lovino tried to focus on the aggravating aspects, like this annoying bus ride that was taking forever, and here he was going out of his way to help Alfred, _Gesù_, you'd think Alfred could do him a favor and pick him again.

Not that it had really bothered Lovino before, the bus ride out to Alfred's place, but he really was starting to feel sick, his stomach growing progressively more leaden with every stop. It had been what, maybe, two weeks since he'd been there last, and they'd watched a movie? (_What_ movie, exactly, Lovino would probably never be able to say.) And still, Lovino couldn't get himself quite settled. He should be over this, should be able to force himself to think of all the crap he had to put up with, and _not_ how much he wanted to touch Alfred, or for Alfred to touch him, and – stop it _now_.

He wanted whatever this – this feeling was _to go away_. Put some cement boots on it and wrap it in chains and drop it into the deepest, darkest lake.

Well. That was a little morbid, but it _did_ make Lovino feel a little better.

Alfred, of course, didn't help. He opened the door a moment after Lovino knocked, resting his hip against the door, loose and relaxed like he never had to deal with stressful thoughts. Bastard.

"Long time no see!" he said with a smile, pushing a wayward strand of blonde hair out of his eyes, and absolutely did not look attractive to Lovino at all.

Lovino's mouth seemed to be momentarily out of order, so he opted for a grunt and a shoulder shrug and looked at a spot past Alfred's shoulder, away from those blue eyes, waiting for Alfred to get out of the way. Usually he'd just push past him, but tonight he couldn't bring himself to voluntarily go near Alfred.

Alfred didn't seem to notice his reluctance, just swung the door wider and took Lovino's jacket from him. Lovino took the opportunity to march past him into the kitchen, flexing his hands. They were empty, which was unusual, but Alfred had picked up the slack on buying groceries, and so Lovino really had no reason to bring anything anymore.

It felt weird, and made Lovino feel prickly and a little strange. And that was on top of his stomach, and _see_? This was why Lovino avoided drama and emotional troubles, he didn't have the stomach for it.

Well, he was Italian, so that was no excuse, but still.

Lovino went into the kitchen and stopped short. On the counter were all the ingredients for the meal, laid out and arranged and _merde_, what the hell was Lovino doing here, anyways?

"Okay, so where do we start?" Alfred came in clapping his hands together once before rubbing them in anticipation, leaning on the counter. "I'm guessing the pasta, yeah?"

"I – _sì_," Lovino stood helpless in the middle of the kitchen, watching Alfred move around, getting the pot and filling it up with water and a dash of salt. He forced his feet to move and went to the cutting board, neatly positioned with the tomatoes sitting by it and picked up the good, sharp knife that was on the countertop.

_Why am I doing this?_ Lovino thought, and placed the knife back down. Alfred knew what he was doing. He knew enough. _He doesn't need m – he doesn't need help_, Lovino thought, and had to stare at the countertop for a moment as his vision swam blurrily.

"So, what are we making?" Alfred was fiddling with the container black olives he'd gotten, rolling it between his hands.

Lovino blinked the world back into focus and jerked himself up straighter. "_Insalata Caprese_ – salad – and the penne with black olives –"

"Pasta," Alfred finished for him, catching his eye with a smile, and Lovino, for a second, felt his face pull into a matching smile, small and crooked. Then he caught himself and scowled and stepped back, arms crossing over his chest.

"_Va bene_, you do it."

"Me? Do what?" Alfred looked startled.

"It won't take much time for the penne to cook, so you'll switch back and forth between the dishes, _sì_?" Lovino pointed at the container in Alfred's hands. "Start with those, for the pasta. Remove the pits, the stones, _sì_? And slice them up."

Alfred had started before Lovino had finished, used to taking orders from Lovino – and maybe the sudden changes in mood, too – becoming more serious, his eyes narrowing in concentration. _He's a good studen_t, Lovino thought, and even among the riot of other emotions he was currently experiencing was something like pride. He wasn't even embarrassed to think about it, Alfred really _did_ deserve the praise.

"So what's next?" Alfred was still pitting the olives, but he was thinking ahead. _Good_.

"_Bene_," Lovino said, "The tomatoes for the pasta gets chopped up as well, and cooked along with olive oil and the rosemary." He stepped forward to move the tomatoes closer to Alfred.

"I got it," Alfred said quickly, not even taking his eyes off his task.

Lovino stopped and shot him a look, eyebrows lifting.

"It's like a test, right?" Alfred gave him a quick grin, a flash of white teeth that looked challenging. He was strangely competitive about certain things, after all, so it shouldn't be a surprise to Lovino.

_No_ – Lovino started to say, but maybe it was. A _was_ kind of a test, not the one Alfred was thinking of, at least not with the results he would be expecting, and Lovino felt almost unbalanced at the thought, that he was jumping to conclusions, pushing to end things when maybe they were just in the middle. But Alfred was good, he didn't need any more instruction, he didn't need Lovino and Lovino didn't need –

"_Sciocco_, then yes, it is," Lovino snapped, instantly defensive.

Alfred just grinned, oblivious to anything Lovino was feeling, confident as always. "I got it!"

Lovino took a deep breath and rattled off the steps – fairly easy, just chopping up the tomatoes and mozzarella for the salad, and adding olive oil and spices. The pasta was simple as well, just cooking the sauce and then tossing the penne along with the black olives until they were thoroughly coated.

Alfred nodded and was already at the cutting board before Lovino even finished listing the directions. He worked efficiently, with only a couple of short pauses in between, and soon enough Lovino was turning away to open the bottle of wine that sat waiting on the table. There was no point in watching, Alfred was doing well. Fine. Great. Perfect.

Lovino took a drink of the red wine and grimaced. Too much, but he felt the need to fortify himself against these stupid, inconvenient emotions. He gripped his glass and sat back in the chair and stared at the wall, and it was almost _too_ quiet. There were the typical kitchen sounds, the clatter of Alfred moving around and pots and utensils clinking together, but usually Alfred would be humming or talking or just _being_ Alfred in general. This time, he was so intensely focused, intent on beating this 'test' – what did he think he would win? Lovino wondered – it made the lack _of_ cheerful, normal Alfred more apparent.

"Annnd done!" Alfred dropped a plate on the table and Lovino started. A very good-looking plate of food sat in front of him. _He can even arrange the food well_, Lovino thought, looking at the array of green leaves and white mozzarella and black olives covering his plate.

Alfred came back with his own plate a moment later and sat down in the chair, edging it closer to the table so he was crowded against it.

"Well?" he said, and looked intently at Lovino, ready to know what the outcome would be.

Lovino was fairly certain he knew what it would be, but he picked up his fork. He took a bite, first of the pasta, then the salad, chewing thoroughly in between, and then washed it down with another too-large mouthful of wine.

He made himself turn to look at Alfred, and forced himself to say, "_Bene_," because it was true, the food was wonderful, and it was worth it to see the serious look on Alfred's face transform into a wide, happy smile.

"Awesome!"

Lovino nodded mechanically and kept eating. It was still good, even if Lovino, for the first time in a long while, couldn't seem to taste much. Or at least appreciate the taste. Alfred dug in too, with much more gusto, and hummed as he took his first bite.

"So," he said in between bites, "what's the prize? The tomato recipe?" Alfred said a little teasingly.

Lovino hesitated. "No. Yes. I mean, of course. I'll give it to you," and here Lovino stuttered to a stop, the blue of Alfred's eyes peeking up at him as he bent his head over his plate, shoveling food in. He didn't want to say the next part, admit anything so easily, but he had to try. "You're good," he managed, and Alfred grinned.

"I know," Alfred said sloppily around a mouthful of salad, eyebrows raising in a ridiculous waggle.

"No, idiot, " Lovino covered his face in his hand.

"What do you mean, give? Like show me, right?"

"No, I," Lovino took a moment by taking a bite. These olives were really good. He looked away and swallowed. "You don't need any more help – instruction," he clarified, just to make sure Alfred was getting it. _Please get it_.

Alfred didn't, though. "What do you mean?" He stopped eating, his fork dropping loosely against the ceramic plate with a _twang_. "You're supposed to be teaching me."

"I did. And you're done, I mean, you've learned enough." His voice was starting to get a bit thick, and Lovino coughed to clear it. "Good job," he added weakly, as if praise would soften the blow. Or something. Why did it even matter? Alfred still looked shocked in a way that was confusing. Did he think Lovino would just be at his beck and call forever? The thought irritated Lovino, and finally he had something he could focus on, a little strand of anger to help him ignore the other messy emotions that wouldn't go away.

"No, wait," Alfred paused. "Are you saying – what are you saying?" He twisted in his chair suddenly, towards the counter and the stove. "This dinner was – this was – "

He stopped, and looked around him, as if there was something hiding, a surprise joke or a prank or _something_. "A _test_," he said suddenly, and turned slowly back to Lovino.

"You did good," Lovino said, and it sounded weak even to him, but maybe Alfred wouldn't notice. Alfred just blinked at him, and darted his eyes around the kitchen again.

"Wait, wait. I just – we just started. I don't understand," Alfred was holding the fork in his hand tightly, and Lovino was more confused than ever.

He'd thought – wouldn't Alfred _get_ that these lessons were only for a short time? Although they'd never actually talked things through that formally, surely he couldn't expect Lovino to be his personal instructor forever. Lovino had things to do – _was_ going to have things to do, as soon as he got a job. He'd been thinking about it forever, and had finally gotten around to looking for openings – and now he was _definitely_ going to apply.

But still. Why was Alfred acting so strangely, like – like – Lovino didn't _know_, and it was strange and frustrating.

"You can cook. I've taught you the basics, and you can read a recipe," Lovino snapped.

"But –" Alfred paused, and then his eyes lit up as he thought of something. "The tomato reci –"

Lovino shook his head with irritation. "I said I'll give it to you!"

Alfred stared at him, and his jaw clenched. Almost like he was angry, and that was stupid, why would he be so angry? "You said you'd _show_ me, though."

"_Dio_, do you think I have nothing else to do! I said I'll give it to you, you can figure it out! I have things to do, you know!"

"Oh," Alfred said quietly. "Like what?"

"Like a job," Lovino replied shortly.

"Oh," Alfred repeated.

Lovino took another bite of food, and regretted it. It tasted cold and just, ugh. "Not that I have one yet, but there's a couple of openings," he muttered. He could see Alfred nodding out of the corner of his eye.

"I just don't understand."

Lovino looked up at Alfred, and Alfred looked so confused that Lovino almost wished he could explain what was happening, but _Dio,_ Lovino barely understood what was going on.

They can go through the steps together, then. "You wanted to learn how to cook, and I taught you, and. You're good." And that's all it is, right? Lovino's helped Alfred learn how to cook because – because of that _guy_ Arthur, Lovino suddenly recalled, and he latched on to this detail. "He'll be very impressed," he said stiffly.

Alfred's head snapped over so fast Lovino almost felt concerned he'd hurt himself. "What?"

"You know, your _friend_," Lovino said, heavily implying something else, because he wanted to remind not just Alfred but himself that there was someone else in the equation. And that's more than enough reason for Lovino to be gone, back in his apartment, _alone_.

Alfred looked puzzled, head cocked to the side. Then his face cleared and he breathed, "Oh, _Arthur_," and it sounded too reverent and – and made Lovino's chest clench way too painfully for him to _stand_.

"Haven't you done enough for him?" Wait, that didn't sound quite right. _Shit_, Lovino needed to get himself together.

Alfred just shook his head and was actually smiling. _Smiling_. "Oh, we're not together," he said, and Lovino would be on the floor in shock if he wasn't already sitting down. He swiveled his head over and stared at Alfred.

"_What_?"

Alfred shrugged. The smile on his face was a little twisted, not _quite_ pleasant, but not cruel in any way. "We haven't been for a long time. Why? Oh...you thought?" He laughed, but Lovino didn't feel like anything was humorous at the moment.

"But – the cooking," Lovino stumbled to a stop. The whole reason for this – wasn't it for Arthur?

Alfred shrugged again and sagged back in the chair, and Lovino realized the tension that'd been surrounding them has receded, just like that. At least, for Alfred, anyways.

"I just thought, I dunno, I'd learn something new." He hesitated, then admitted, "I'd _prove_ something."

"Like what?" Lovino said quietly. He didn't want to interrupt the story, but he wanted to _know_.

"I don't know," Alfred said, frustrated. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "He was a shitty cook, and I always made fun of him for it, although honestly, I wasn't much better. Obviously." A little smile curled at his lips.

"So I thought, I'd try it. Learn how to cook. I like learning new things, I like making things, you know?"

Lovino nodded.

"It didn't really – it doesn't have anything to do with Arthur anymore, and it hasn't. For a while," Alfred said and looked at Lovino.

Oh. Lovino nodded again and looked away, but he could still feel Alfred staring at him, and it was a little strange.

"So," Lovino said, and cleared his throat. "Let's, um." Alfred was still staring at him, and Lovino's natural reaction was to start blushing, which was annoying. "Let's – I'll take your plate," he muttered, and snagged Alfred's mostly empty plate from in front of him, sliding it under his mostly full one.

"You don't have –"

"You cooked," Lovino said quickly, sharply, not looking at Alfred, and held the plates and silverware close to his chest so Alfred wouldn't try to snatch them back. He put them on the counter next to the sink and started the faucet. Maybe for a minute or two he'd get a chance to calm down, because things had happened much too quickly and Lovino needs to _deal_.

Because Alfred wasn't even _with_ Arthur, or trying to get him back, and that – _that_ meant something Lovino was afraid to think too closely about.

Alfred followed him over to the sink, though, standing a little ways away from him. "Can I dry?" He asked, after a moment, and his tone of voice was quiet and considerate, so Lovino shrugged.

He doesn't try to talk to him while they're working, so Lovino can relax a little, focused on the task of getting the pots and pans and plates clean. It helped that Alfred was quiet next to him, a steady but unobtrusive presence. Although he _was_ humming a bit, but Lovino can't seem to bring himself to mind. In a way, he's kind of relieved to hear him do it.

Lovino started to feel nervous again when Alfred put the last of the dishes away. He wiped down the table, just to have something to do with his hands, and finally turned around to see Alfred leaning against the counter, looking at him thoughtfully.

"So," Alfred said, and Lovino twisted the towel in his hand. He had to walk over to the rack of the sink to put it away, but it was right next to Alfred. He forced himself walk over there anyways and hang it up nicely, because he _was_ a guest, technically.

"So I'm going to go," Lovino said bluntly, and was startled to hear Alfred chuckle after a moment of silence.

"What?" Lovino said, and glared at Alfred.

Alfred just laughed harder and Lovino's scowl grew deeper as he waited for Alfred to stop acting like an idiot.

"Nothing," Alfred said finally, calming himself, although a grin remained on his face. He waved a hand. "Just, you," he shook his head and started laughing again at the look on Lovino's face.

"_What_?" Lovino snapped.

Alfred finally pulled himself together, standing up straighter and taking off his glasses to wipe his eyes. "You're just _you_," he said warmly, like that explained something, and put his glasses back on before slinging an arm over Lovino's shoulder.

"C'mon, let's watch a movie," he said cheerfully, like their previous conversation filled with conflict and tension had never happened, and tried to steer Lovino into the living room.

"_What_? No," Lovino said, and ducked away from Alfred's warm grip. Not that it was comfortable, no. It wasn't at all.

"C'mon, see, if you wait a bit, Mattie'll be home and I can give you a ride," Alfred said, pointing to the clock.

Lovino stared at the clock like it might show what time Matthew got home, which could be anytime, as far as Lovino could tell.

"I mean, if you want," Alfred shrugged and tucked his hands in his pockets. "I know, you said something about a job, so maybe not?"

Right. The jobs he was going to start applying for. Lovino drug a hand through his hair, letting some strands fall in front of his face. "I don't know, I – I should get back," he said.

"Okay," Alfred said agreeably. "Can I walk you to the bus stop?"

"I," Lovino said very coherently. Alfred was being very considerate and thoughtful and it was kind of freaking him out, especially after being so odd and almost angry earlier. "I don't need you to," he declared huffily, walking to the door.

Alfred followed him out. "I know, but it's a nice night, you know?"

It was, but that didn't mean anything. Did it? "No!" Lovino said a little too loudly, his voice bouncing off the hallway walls, and Alfred blinked.

"Okay," he said reasonably, and Lovino felt – he felt many things, too many at the moment, but now he mostly felt like an idiot. _Dio_. He looked down, willing the heat in his face to go away. And Alfred, too.

"Thanks for coming over," Alfred said, and Lovino nodded, head still down as he stared at his shoes. This had to be their most disastrous night yet, and they were ending it like _this_. Alfred acting like a gentleman, and Lovino fleeing the house like a coward. Lovino just wanted to go home and sort out _what the hell was going on_ in peace. Possibly with more wine, and no Feliciano, but Lovino was probably only going to get one of the two. He sort of hated himself at the moment. If only Alfred would just _please let him go_.

If only he had never met Alfred. Immediately Lovino went rigid, and caught his breath hard, because it was the worst kind of thought, and he couldn't bear it, the thought of not seeing or hearing or being close enough to touch, so he turned instinctively towards Alfred to make sure he was there.

Alfred was holding up his coat for him to put his on, and Lovino felt his breath return, shakily, in a little gasp that Alfred seemed not to hear.

He let Alfred slide the jacket over his arms, and shivered when Alfred's fingers brushed his neck, adjusting his collar. He took a step quickly away, face on fire, and couldn't quite bring himself to meet Alfred's eyes.

"I'm, um," he stopped and shook his head. _Idiot._

"Thanks for the lessons," Alfred said quietly, and Lovino looked up.

"I really like cooking with you," Alfred continued, a smile on his face although his eyes were serious, a blue that was too deep to look at for long.

Lovino turned his face away, looking at the wall, which wasn't as nice to look at but was much more safe. He couldn't seem to move his legs.

Alfred took a deep breath. "Maybe –" and they both jumped when the door swung open and almost knocked Lovino over.

"Mattie! God, what the hell?" Alfred snapped, and Lovino stepped back against the wall for support, heart racing. It was a shock, too, to hear Alfred swear, as the American was hardly ever did so, Lovino realized.

Matthew looked surprised, blinking at the two of them. "I'm – _sorry_, I didn't know you were here." He hesitated in the doorway, gaze swinging back and forth between the two of them. "I'll just be –" he nodded past them.

Lovino pressed closer to the wall to get out of the way, and Alfred's brother slid past them to stride down the hallway and out of sight.

Lovino and Alfred turned back – they had both been watching him, and Alfred sighed.

"Shit," he muttered, cursing again, and for some reason this made Lovino smile.

"Listen. So, I can give you a ride –"

Lovino shook his head. "No, no, I'm fine. Thanks," he said, and reached for the door.

"Wait. Lovino," Alfred said, and Lovino opened the door anyways.

"Thanks," he said again, and half-turned to catch a quick glimpse of Alfred looking anxious as he stepped out the door.

"Okay, then," Alfred said huff, nearly whining, and it was the most irritated Lovino had ever heard him sound. It made him pause for a second, outside the door.

"Bye," he muttered around the block in his throat, and Alfred shook his head, one hand on the edge of the door, leaning towards Lovino as Lovino moved away.

"Yeah, see you," Alfred replied to his back, and Lovino hunched his shoulders but didn't turn around. He didn't hear the door shut, either. He kept walking down the block, and didn't risk a glance back.

* * *

><p><em>Notes: <em>

*So, I have to admit I haven't actually made these two recipes, and unfortunately I'm staying in a place where I don't have access to a kitchen for the summer, but in the interests of moving along I'm pretending I know what I'm doing. (Insalata Caprese I've had, though, and it's _fantastic_.)

*I had to rewrite this chapter about 3 times, so let me know if there's any glaring grammatical errors.

*Angst, angst, angst overload.

*And dialogue. Why so much talking, guys? More action in the next chapter, I swear.

*I can't believe I started this story over a year ago. Holy smokes! I hope it's holding up still. :p


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